Behind Her Smile
by UrbanAuthor
Summary: Clara Oswin Oswald, a bright young woman, enveloped in an appearance of content, but slowly diminishing at heart. Doctor John Smith, forlorn yet so brilliant, so incredible. When missed plane rides, coffee shops, loss, and unfortunate incidents bring them to a relationship of disarray, will all lead to a happy ending? (Eleven and Clara AU)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Daydreamer

A disarray of thoughts dispersed around Clara's head like a train falling off its tracks. Thoughts about hopes and aspirations, airplanes and flight times, love and forgetfulness struck against each other like soldiers at war. She tried to think straight and focus on her work, but her mind just simply refused to do so.

The customer behind the counter glared at Clara impatiently as she quickly poured the boiling coffee into a cup, trying not to hiss at the fact that it was too hot. Usually she would be focused on her job as a barista, but today she didn't expect anyone to offer her tips. She gave the searing foam cup to the already agitated business woman, who scowled at her as she strut out of the café, leaving an intimidated Clara to ponder at her horrid morning. "Have a nice day?" she whispered weakly.

Clara sighed in exasperation, for she was already weary from all the packing, and there was still so much more that needed to be done. _Don't worry Clara, _she attempted to encourage herself. _Tomorrow you'll be on a plane heading out of here. _She shut her eyes tightly, trying not to think negatively, but it was almost impossible. _…if I even get there at the right time. _She groaned in frustration.

It's not as though she _didn't _like her job at Sparrow's, it was the tiniest most lovable café she'd ever stepped foot in. Clara had always been a positive being, but after her mother had passed, it's as if though a void of depression had swallowed her whole. Everything changed, well, everything except her facial expression. A hollow, unnatural smile was somehow paralyzed on her face, hiding the fact that she felt completely alone. That's why nobody asked, because nobody knew.

Clara needed an escape. She had thought about traveling the world as though it was her own backyard, but never imagined it becoming a reality. After all the incidents in her life, she finally found a reason to do so. Clara was leaving the next morning on her tour around the world, and nobody could stop her from doing so. Mainly because she'd been planning the trip for nearly six years; pleading for approval from her father, continuously drawing notes on her world map, and most importantly, saving up. It was hard, of course, but after counting every penny (From her barista paycheck to whatever was found on the sidewalk), she managed to cover the expense of a few trips, hotels and everything.

The twenty-four year old stared off into space, daydreaming of her prime plans for the next day. She was so enthusiastic about it all; she would finally get to see the genuine aspects of the photographs in her geography textbook, for seeing the real thing was so much better than staring at a textbook. Ah, how she would wake up in a sunny Paris hotel room, bike the paths of Amsterdam…

"Um, _excuse_ me?" an irritating voice came from behind the coffee shop counter. Clara snapped out of her daydream and willingly wanted to glower at the teenage girl standing in front of her. She almost did, but tried to control herself, smiling sweetly. "Yes, can I help you?" Clara asked.

"I told you my order already, can't you hear?" she retorted, an annoyed frown on her face. Clara sighed, for it seemed as though everybody was cranky today. She reluctantly grabbed her order pad and a rubbish pencil, desperately wanting to leave all of the obnoxious customers behind. With a roll of her eyes and an uninterested tone in her voice, she asked,

"No, so can you _please_ repeat that for me?"

* * *

By the end of her shift, Clara didn't even feel like driving home, for she was sure that she wouldn't make it without dozing off. It wasn't the best day for her, she was pretty sure she had gotten more than half of the orders wrong, not like it really mattered. Caffeine was caffeine, and coffee was coffee. It has two purposes (According to Clara): to taste good, and to make sure you didn't fall asleep during working periods. It wasn't that complicated.

Clara wiped the marble counter clean from the sugar and spills; for she was also quite clumsy. It was the one thing she just couldn't improve about herself; she couldn't take a day without falling in public, or spilling coffee on a customer's khaki pants (She still couldn't get over that.). Clumsiness was just something she couldn't hide.

"Rough day?" Sally asked as she turned off the lights in the back room. Clara nodded vigorously, for she was far past exhausted. "At least it's your last day," she smiled sadly, for she was going to miss Clara dearly. "Going to see the world tomorrow, how exciting is that?" she sighed. "Don't forget to phone me, or write at least."

Clara turned to stare at her. Sally Sparrow, the owner of the place, and Clara's best friend since they were teenagers. "At least you won't be alone, you've got that Lawrence Nightingale of yours." She eyed Sally's ring, for she wasn't happy about missing her own best friend's wedding. Clara hugged her tightly, for it was hard to leave someone who's been with her for so many years. "Thank you." She whispered in her ear, for she was the one who had encouraged her through, well, almost everything in life.

As the two pulled away from each other, they smiled at one another, just as Sally snapped her fingers, as though remembering something. "Oh yeah." she said quietly, pulling out a slim white envelope out of her back pocket. She gave it to Clara as she eyed it suspiciously.

"What's this?" she asked, staring at it.

"Oh, it's just something for all your worries, or troubles." Sally nodded in assurance.

As Clara opened the envelope carefully, she spotted a few pictures of her and her best friend together, smiling and laughing. "Aw, thank you." Clara didn't want to cry, but her eyes watered with the need to.

"Oh, there's more." Sally said again, for she knew Clara was going to enjoy it.

As Clara peered down into the envelope again as she saw the cheque for who knows how much money. She gasped just at the sight of it. "…I can't take this."

"Don't worry!" Sally reassured. "It's a gift."

Clara hugged her one more time, thanking her repeatedly, for she was so grateful.

"You're the best, you know that right?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Well hi there! Gosh, I'd like to thank everyone who read my last chapter, it really means a lot to me. :) This chapter took a while to get together, so I hope you all enjoy! (Reviews are always welcomed! ;D)

* * *

Chapter Two: The Scientist 

That same night, Doctor John Smith was celebrating his last day as an information technologist, also known as that guy you call when your computer froze again. It had been a good four years of working at his office, he had made many friends with the people there, but he felt as though it just wasn't made for him. His best friend and coworker, Amelia Jessica Pond, had wished that he would stay, but accepted the fact that he was leaving on a prolonged trip to many distant places in the next morning.

John Smith had always pondered about the existence of time travel, whether it was possible or if it will ever be. Amelia, rather known as Amy, would simply smile and nod at her best friend and his unexplainable lectures about his hypotheses on the subject. Sure, she didn't know the slightest bit of what he was talking about, but she gave him the best encouragement and tried to understand anyway. He announced of his plans to travel the world a few months back, and his friends had been helping him prepare ever since. _If time travel isn't possible, then traveling the world is the closest thing, eh? _He had said to Amy, who smiled sweetly at the friend she had seen grown up with her. In the end, John Smith had resigned from his position as an information technologist, and was spending his last day with a small party coworkers had arranged for him.

"You _better _not forget about me." Amy assured him, sitting across from her best friend in the corner of the lounge.

John Smith gave out a shy smile at the Scottish redhead. "How could I? You're the one who dragged me out of bed on my first day…literally." he said. That was quite an aggressive morning.

Amy let out a happy sigh. "It's just…who am I going to talk to now?"

John gave her a slight look. "What about Rory? He _is _your husband, after all."

"That's the _point_!" Amy replied. "I can't make fun of him anymore." she pretended to pout.

Her best friend laughed. "Oh, how I'm going to miss you Pond."

Amy smiled softly. _Pond. _She loved that nickname. "Tell me again," she paused for a brief moment. "Why are you leaving? All of us, everyone; do you not like working here?" she queried, biting her bottom lip.

John let out a sigh of hesitance, not sure of what to say. "Well first of all I love my job here Amy," he smiled. "…and I guess…" he was lost in a mist of thoughts. "There's just too many regrets lingering around the place…and they keep reminding me of things I desperately want to forget." Amy nodded, for he has been through so much…_loss_, and in more ways than one. "…and I don't _just_ want to be that guy who fixes the printers."

Amy laughed. "You were the best at doing that."

John continued on. "I want to be that someone who saw everything, I want to meet new people."

"Maybe you'll find some lucky girl." Amy said quietly, but he could hear it loud and clear. She stared at him with her dark hazel eyes, for she wanted to take the words back. _Never. _The word echoed in his mind. It was if as though love was a forbidden topic, and Amy had respected that, but her best friend couldn't stay alone for the rest of his life, it would be too strenuous. Amy stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay, listen to me." she said in a soft yet clear voice. "I know…that you don't like to talk about it and I'm sorry for bringing anything up…" she trailed off, leaning her forehead on his. "But you _need _to let _somebody _in, _anyone_."

Her best friend shook his head, for he never loved. He didn't trust love; he thought it was completely preposterous. Amy had helped him through it, or maybe just _dragged_ him through it. (Mainly because he had refused to cooperate.) She was never exactly sure. "…please? For me?" she kissed his forehead, hugging him tightly. "You need to try."

John closed his eyes, for he wasn't sure about anything. "Maybe." He muttered.

Amy smiled. "Thank you." She whispered.

John had never let anyone into his heart. He didn't want to speak about those incidents, and whenever something irked him about it, he'd loom into depression. He never thought anything was possible.

…nothing at all.

* * *

Later that night, John blankly stared at the amount of luggage sitting on the floor of his flat. How was he going to get it _all _into his car in the morning? He didn't know, unless some miraculous incident occurred in which his car was bigger on the inside. Which by common sense he knew wouldn't happen.

He lay down on his worn-out mattress, ruffling out his surprisingly long hair, for he had no intentions of getting a haircut. He looked up at the nighttime sky outside his window, just a part of the infinitude universe of burning yet shining aspects. _One day I might be able to see all of it. _He thought to himself, turning around to lie on his stomach. His chin was propped up by his pillow, eyes gazing up at an endless pool of a deep blue darkness.

_Everyone on Earth sees the same moon. _Amy had told him once when trying to contribute to one of his lectures about science and such. It was an inspiring yet intriguing choice of words. _Everyone. _He thought to himself, then stuffing his face into his pillow. _I don't do love. _He thought to himself, and was sure of it.

He had lost his own mother, and it was hard to overcome it. His parents had divorced over nine years ago, and it was a day that he wished never existed; one that he could just forget completely.

_"Do you think I'd ever really love you?! You insensible idiot…" _The words still stood in clarity, the words from his mother as she slapped him cold hard in the face; enraged and miserable. He softly touched his cheek where she hit him, for he could still feel a sense of torment.

After that, he could never trust anyone. Amy had tried to keep him optimistic, but he assured himself that he wouldn't make the mistakes of his parents. Depression overcame him, and he desperately needed to get away from it. That's why he was leaving all this anxiety and trauma behind, leaving to places unexpected, and starting over again.

_Love never lasts, _he thought to himself, that's why he never allowed anyone into his heart. But he was on his own in a prison of solitude, and a part of him wanted to break out. _Everyone needs somebody. _Amy had told him on her wedding day. _Don't worry about me. _He had said, but deep inside, he knew it wasn't true. He needed somebody to talk to, to laugh with, and to love. Amy had tried, but she knew that there needed to be someone else.

_But you need to let somebody in, anyone. _

He sighed to himself, for everything was an impenetrable mess of feelings; what to think, and what not to think. He wanted to love somebody, but was afraid to get hurt; to be abused. But Amy wanted to him to try, and he wanted her to be proud of him.

_…maybe._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay, that is the _last _time I'm updating chapter one! Fixing grammatical mistakes can be quite a tedious process. XD _Anyways_... new chapter! Yay! I want to get the next one up as soon as possible because I think it's rather lovely. :) Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three: A Heart of Hesitance 

The next morning, Clara was practically a dynamic body without a mind of consciousness. She was trying her hardest not to collapse on the floor of her flat, for if she did she would obviously be late for her flight. Her first plane ride was to Rome, and nobody would want to miss the beauty of it.

She stuffed the money from Sally into the front pocket of her suitcase, then grabbing a journal from her bedside table. She paused before throwing it in, for it had been her mother's, she just never got the chance to use it. Clara had decided to bring it along with her. With one last glimpse of a smile, Clara carefully placed it inside and tugged on the zipper to close.

Suddenly, a familiar ring came from her mobile, and she quickly snatched it up to answer it.

"_Hello?_" Clara said enthusiastically, though she was purely exhausted.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Sally's voice said hesitantly over the line.

Clara grinned. "Nope, I'm just getting about ready to leave."

"Oh, okay." She replied. "Just wanted to say goodbye and good luck,"

"For what?"

"For what?!" Sally scoffed. "For everything! You're traveling the world today; you're bound to run into _some_ trouble."

"…is that supposed to be an insult?"

Sally sighed. "Just…be careful."

"What is there to be careful about?"

"Oh…I don't know! You might meet some fellow and turn into someone completely..." Sally paused; thinking of a reasonable term to say. "..._impulsive_!"

"Fellow? As in a boy?" Clara laughed. "That won't happen."

"Well you never know Clara." Sally said, trying to use admonition. "You're pretty, intelligent, funny-"

"Don't start." Clara snapped, not wanting to talk about it. "I'm _not _going to meet anyone I'll _so_ happen to have an _interest_ in."

"Alright, fine, I'll shut myself up." She admitted.

"_Thank _you." Clara nodded. _I said what I said, so it shall be done, right? _Clara thought to herself. _Falling in love. How unreasonable… _Clara scoffed. _I'm not going to meet anyone. _She assured herself.

But in all honesty, she wasn't quite sure.

* * *

After checking some luggage in and going through the tedious security systems, Clara breathed in the unfamiliar air of the airport, for she had only visited a few times in the past. The sound of luggage wheels on the soft carpet, the peeking sun shining rays through the large glass windows, flight attendants and pilots boarding their gates. It was a hectic yet entertaining place to be.

Suddenly, Clara's stomach grumbled with emptiness and anticipation, for then she remembered that she hadn't eaten that morning. She placed a hand over her stomach as to convince herself that no one would hear the displeasing complain of her hunger, and she frantically looked around for a place to eat. She spotted a small café not too far away, and with a small sigh of relief, dragged her luggage over to a nearby table.

Her eyes scanned the glossy glass case which displayed various sweets of sorts. Clara thought to herself for a moment, for her mind wasn't exactly ready to make a choice. Everything was either packed with sugar or just out of her appetite, and she usually preferred a pleasing breakfast.

Immediately, her eyes met something that made her eyes widen at an instant. _...soufflés... _Clara thought to herself, a small grin appearing on her face, for she knew without a doubt that her mind had been set.

* * *

Clara smiled at the friendly barista behind the counter as she carefully took a dainty soufflé in her small hands, as well as a cup of coffee to make sure she wouldn't drowse while eating. As she made her way back to her table, the aroma of the lightly baked cake made her mouth water. She placed the small white plate on the place mat as well as her coffee and properly sat down.

_...should I take a picture of it? _Clara thought hesitantly, glancing over to her luggage which held her camera. It was quite a photogenic piece of cuisine. As if in response, her stomach grumbled yet again, this time even more agitated. _Yeah... probably not the best idea. _She nodded to herself, lightly tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth. A delectable flavor burst in her mouth as a smile spread on her face, for it was one of the best treats she'd eaten in a while.

It had reminded her of her own mother's soufflé, the one that her mother could make perfectly, but came so challenging when Clara tried to make it. She had remembered all those times in which she'd almost burned the house down, as well as the times in which she'd make the kitchen a chaos of flour and egg shells. _"One day I'll be able to make it right, one day I'll be soufflé girl!" _Clara had assured her mother when she was little; a promise yet to be fulfilled.

As Clara thought of all the soufflé failures, she reached across the table to grab a napkin, accidentally knocking over her cup of coffee in the process. She grimaced as the hot drink spread across the table, slowly dripping down the table and onto the floor. Clara hid her face in embarrassment, for she already knew that some people were starting to stare.

A girl sitting at a nearby table spotted Clara and her spilled coffee and immediately ran up to the counter to fetch a few wads of napkins. She made her way through the tables, chairs, and luggage, and finally stopped at Clara's table, lightly tapping her on the shoulder.

Clara jumped up in surprise, then eying the girl in front of her. She had a sweet smile and golden blonde hair that covered her crimson jacket.

"Oh..." Clara said, staring at the napkins in her hands. "Um... thanks." she said.

"Do you need any help cleaning up?" the girl offered, her smile still covering her face.

Clara didn't want to make a little girl clean up the mess she had made, but as she stared at the dripping coffee, she gave in. "Yes please."

"Okay, here you go." she said, splitting the huge pile of napkins in half, giving one of them to her. Clara smiled at her as they started to wipe down the sticky coffee off of the table as well as the floor.

"What is your name?" Clara asked her, wanting to start up a small conversation.

"Merry," the little girl replied, placing a few soaked napkins to the side. "Yours?"

"Clara." she replied.

"You have a nice name."

"Thank you, as do you." Clara replied. "What brings you to the airport Miss Merry?" she asked.

"My father's coming home from the military today," she explained. "My mum and I are here waiting for him to come home."

"Oh, that's nice." Clara smiled.

"Yeah, it is. My mum and dad really love each other." she said quietly, smiling to herself, staring back at her mother who was drinking a cup of tea, smiling at her daughter as she helped Clara. "They've been married for so long." Merry thought to herself. "Are you married Clara?"

Clara laughed. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Why so?" Merry stared at her.

Clara thought for a moment, for she wasn't exactly sure. "I suppose... I just haven't met the right person. Maybe I'm not ready yet."

Merry nodded in understatement. "People should think carefully when it comes to love, you know."

Clara agreed. "Yeah, they should." Clara enjoyed Merry's company, not just for her generosity of her offering to help clean up after her coffee incident.

After they had finished cleaning up the spill and its stickiness, Merry threw away the soaked napkins and finished her conversation with Clara.

"Thank you for helping me." Clara said.

"You're welcome." she grinned back. "Well... have a nice day!" she said, turning back to her own table, but stopping to say one last thing. "Oh, yeah, and Clara?" she turned around.

"Yes?"

"I hope you find someone special, you know, someone to love, trust, and all."

Clara stared at Merry for a moment, then smiled at her with gratitude.

"...thank you." Clara said quietly, Merry beaming as she ran off to sit with her own mother, leaving Clara to ponder at the existence of love, how it can be so beautiful, yet so devious at the same time. She had to take love carefully, for she was afraid to shatter if she took one mistaken step.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**AAH CAN WE ALL TAKE A MOMENT TO REJOICE AT THE WONDERFUL TRAILERS AND STUFF THAT THE BBC HAS POSTED FOR THE 50TH?! :D But honestly, they're amazing. (My inner fangirl exploded when Eleven spun Clara in the TARDIS during that second trailer... XD)

* * *

Chapter Four: Timid

Doctor John Smith energetically tapped the armrest of his seat as numerous people tried to make their way through the airplane. He had been one of the first ones to board, and he knew that it would take a while until everyone got comfortable. Children singing, adults bickering, luggage filling the overhead compartments; it was rather crowded for a fairly large airplane. He closed his eyes tightly, for he was always used to the quiet solitude of his office. He was starting to regret choosing such a busy flight, that is, until his eyes met something he couldn't exactly take his eyes off of.

It was a girl, brunette, certainly short for a person her age, and especially..._pretty_. She was making her way through the aisle, looking for an available seat. Doctor Smith shook his head and tried to ignore her, but when she practically fell into the seat next to him, well, it was fairly difficult for him _not _to.

"Hi." she smiled warmly, and it took Doctor Smith a while for him to realize that she was talking to _him_.

"Um, hello." he replied awkwardly, for he wasn't exactly used to people talking to him so openly. He wasn't the best when it came to making conversation with strangers.

She smiled a fairly cute smile and sat back in her own seat, swinging her legs in content. Doctor Smith turned to stare out the window, trying to look preoccupied, even though he was certainly doing a poor job of showing it. This girl was making him feel nervous, and he didn't know the reason for it. He attempted to scoot away from her, but he was quite uncomfortable by doing so. He didn't want to look like a fool in front of her, not like she was paying attention to him anyway. He straightened the bow tie secured comfortably in his collar, and suddenly felt embarrassed for wearing it.

On the other hand, Clara was feeling a bit self-conscious. She had only acknowledged this man for about thirty seconds, and she could already feel her shyness enveloping her into its devious void of existence. _What is it with this particular human being?! _her consciousness quarreled at her, and in all honesty she wasn't quite sure. Maybe because she thought his bow tie was particularly distinctive, or how his chin was certainly eccentric, or maybe because his hair was just a little too...perfect. (Clara forced that thought out of her mind the second she thought of it.)

She had decided not to talk to him for the rest of their time together, for it was only a three-hour flight. They didn't know each other personally, and he was only a stranger. Besides, she had her own plans.

Once everyone became seated and the doors closed, the stewardess started her usual lecture and demonstration, not like anyone was paying attention anyway. Doctor Smith pulled a book out of the seat's front pocket that he had brought along, for there was no other way to pass the tedious everlasting time.

But even though he had a strong ambition for finishing his novel, he read about three words per minute. It was one of those incidents in which he couldn't pay attention. Instead, his eyes kept wandering to the girl sitting next to him. She was looking around, breathing in the environment, and she was just so...alluring.

_I should talk to her, I mean, that's what people do, right? Talk to each other... _He suggested to himself, but he didn't have the courage to say anything.

Clara was thinking quite the opposite._ I'm not going to say anything, I don't even know him! Why am I doing this...?_

Doctor Smith shook his head in regret. _No, I can't talk to her, she's a stranger... a nobody, a passer-by... that I happen to be slightly attracted to. _

_I'm not acting rude by not talking to him, am I? _Clara closed her eyes in confusion.

Both of them were lost in an endless train of thoughts. Regret, agreement, and utter silence between the two, and even though they had only met, it seemed wrong. It was as though both minds wanted to touch one another, but pulled back by the absence of conversation.

At one point, both just sort of gave up, for they were becoming tired by quarreling with themselves. _This is stupid, just keep your mouth shut. _Clara finalized in her head, and Doctor Smith was thinking fairly the same thing. They were so close, yet so distant from one another.

Then, a thought just sort of slapped them both in the face of realization.

_I don't do love, remember?_

Clara's muscles relaxed a bit, for she had recalled the agreement that she had made to herself a long time ago. She wouldn't let the aspects of love's particular criteria get to her, and she was persistent on keeping it that way. For Clara it was more of a relief and an encouragement, but for the one sitting next to her, it was a remembrance of something rather vile.

_His mother. _

He froze in slight agony, trying not to remember her in the worst way possible, but the thoughts were bleeding through. He tensed, suddenly forgetting about Clara entirely.

_"Everything you see here, everything you thought, everything you believed in, was a foolish, pointless lie!" _

_"Everything dies, haven't you realized that yet?! Or have you been too much of an idiot to do so?"_

His mother was completely mad and out of control at the time, maybe even a bit out of conscious, but none of it mattered. She still said it.

Even though he wasn't talking in the first place, Doctor Smith became even more quiet. He didn't move for a while; it was as though he became paralyzed. The novel patiently sat in his lap, almost as if it understood.

Both Clara and him wanted to be loved so badly, but was too terrified to do so. Locked in a cage of isolation, protected from the peril, but so... lonely. Both of them stayed quiet, for they not dared to speak.

Remembering sure shut themselves up.

* * *

"_Attention all passengers, our plane will be arriving in Rome in precisely one hour. Thank you for traveling with us_."

Clara's eyes slowly opened, for she had fell asleep a while ago. She let out a tiny yawn and stretched a bit from the fact that she had been sitting in one position for two hours. Her eyes slowly made its way to the man sitting next to her, who was hunched over his book. He had put on reading glasses and his sleeves were rolled up, trying to enjoy his novel in the most pleasing way possible. Her eyes narrowed as she let out a small huff of air, reaching underneath the seat for a small messenger bag she had brought along with her.

She took out a stuffed notebook with notes, maps, brochures, and such that she had been filling up since the age of eighteen. It had included all of her plans and ambitions of traveling, every detail of every aspect of every trip taken. Clara kicked the bag back underneath the seat, carefully opening the notebook to the first page, which was overloaded with photographs of various things in various places. She smiled to herself, for she was finally beginning to accomplish the thing she had been working so hard for.

But from the weight and amount of papers stuffed inside the notebook, it gave in, a heap load of papers falling onto the carpet of the airplane, sprawling about. Clara sighed, for it wasn't the first time she'd clumsily made a fool of herself in public. She removed her seat belt and uncomfortably squatted down to attempt to gather all of the loose papers up, but she was having a difficult time of doing so, and considering the circumstances, she felt surprised when she felt a shoulder lightly graze hers.

She turned her head to see that Doctor Smith was sitting on the floor next to her, the two exchanging awkward glances to one another.

"Do you, uh, need any help?" he asked.

At first she thought that he would be selfish and just plain shy at offering her any help, but, then again, she hardly even knew him. Clara was hesitant, but with a small smile, she nodded her head.

...and unexpectedly, he smiled back.

It took a while to clean everything up; Clara had admitted that she had a ton of papers, and she wasn't wrong about it. Doctor Smith tried not to stare at her writing, but it was hard not to. Written in bright blue pen and pictures taped messily on the paper, ripped corners and scribbles, it was rather intriguing. This girl seemed so absorbing, different maybe, and Doctor Smith wanted to get to know her, carefully of course.

"So, what brings you to Italy?" Clara asked him. He jumped up from surprise, making Clara giggle a bit.

"Oh, um..." He thought carefully, trying not to sound so nervous. "Ambitions, I suppose."

"What kinds of ambitions?" She asked, stuffing a few papers back into their proper place.

"Oh, you know..." _She obviously doesn't know. _He thought to himself, regretting his last words. "I've always wanted to travel to different places..." _Did that sound too absurd?_

Clara smiled in surprise. "Really? Me too."

"To travel the world...?"

"Yeah."

Doctor Smith smiled broadly at this girl, for he had actually shared something...in common.

"Sorry," Clara shook her head. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Clara. Clara Oswald." she smiled.

"Doctor John Smith."

"Nice to meet you, Doctor John Smith."

"The same to you Miss Oswald."

Both of them awkwardly grinned at each other, for getting to know more about each other started to change their perspective of things, by just a tad.

* * *

They talked for nearly the rest of the flight, laughing, smiling, and just plain talking. Clara was becoming a bit more comfortable around Doctor Smith, and the same as with him. They shared their aspirations for traveling, the places they wanted to see, the languages to hear, the beauty of it all.

Once the plane had landed in Rome, both of them exited the plane in content, for making a new friend...maybe wasn't so difficult.

"Well, it was nice talking to you." Clara smiled in the airport, tapping on the handle of her luggage.

"You too." Doctor Smith replied, and with that, they both started to part their ways, just as Doctor Smith stopped for a moment, considering a few things.

"Wait, Clara!" he called out to her, turning around, for she wasn't too far away.

Clara turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Do you think, um, maybe, if you want to... meet up sometime? I mean while we're here, of course..." He started to regret his words, but was taken aback at her response.

"Yeah, sure." she smiled.

"Wait...really?"

"Of course." she giggled, taking out her mobile. "Here, let me give you my number..."

_She had actually agreed to it..._ He thought to himself. _Clara had actually said yes... _His mind went mad for a second, taking it all in.

"Got it?" Clara asked.

_Did she just say her number? _Doctor Smith snapped out of his thoughts. _...she just did, didn't she..._

"I-um..."

"Silly, I'm just joking, I haven't even _told _you yet." Clara giggled, making him blush crimson.

_...wait. Was she just...flirting with me?_

He didn't know, and it would be best if he didn't ask.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: OMG THE 50TH WAS SO FLIPPIN' AMAZING! ****ALL OF THE DOCTORS IN ONE TARDIS! TEN GIVING A SPEECH TO A RABBIT! ELEVEN HANGING ON TO HIS TARDIS FOR DEAR LIFE! TOM BAKER COMING BACK! THE INTERFACE CONSCIENCE! WHEN CLARA KISSED ELEVEN OMG I JUST ABOUT DIED.**

**AND CAN WE _TALK _ABOUT TIME OF THE DOCTOR?! CLARA CALLED HIM HER BOYFRIEND! AND THEN HE...yeah. xD**

Apologies for the short absence! Been a while without the access of a computer. :/ BUT GUESS WHO HAS A NEW CHAPTER?! xD Also, apologies for any grammatical mistakes...everyone makes them once in a while. ;)

* * *

Chapter Five: Almost Alien

"I _told _you so!" Sally said in triumph.

"_You told me so..._" Clara repeated sheepishly.

"What's he like?"

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Well yes you do, you _met _him."

"But...he's sort of... _unexplainable._"

"_Unexplainable_...like?"

"Like..." Clara pondered for a moment. "...almost...alien."

Sally stopped her continuous questionnaire to consider what she had heard on the other line. _Almost alien. _It was an intriguing choice of words. "Well...never heard that one before. "Explain." Sally said, attempting to sound professional.

Clara tightened her grip on her mobile as she looked up at the ceiling fan of her hotel room, as if there were something there that could help her with her choice of words. "I really can't..." she admit. "I mean...he's just...different."

"Go on..." Sally urged.

"...not _different _as in, _'Oh, he's got those fabulous looks of a GQ model.',_well, I mean, he kind of does, but that's not the point." She could hear Sally scoff on the other end. Clara just rolled her eyes. "_What I mean_ is that he seems as though he has a different perspective of things. He sees the world differently. Like its just a small part of his life, as if one day he's going to go to some other universe, as if the world is just the beginning of this...magnificent plan to see _everything_, and he comes up with these things that nobody else will _ever_ think about...impossible things."

Sally was quiet on the other end. "...well aren't you interested in him?"

"Well maybe I am."

Sally laughed. "Oh Clara, you and your thoughts..." she trailed off. "What would the world be without you?"

* * *

After she finished her conversation with Sally, Clara carelessly tossed her mobile onto the bed and practically fell onto its arrangement of soft pillows. She closed her eyes tightly and thought about life in general, which is something she didn't do too often. _Is there a purpose of life? What is life even for?_ She quarreled at herself, for when she actually thought of it, her mind became overrun with an infinity of possibilities, which caused incertitude, which caused anxiety.

Suddenly, the felt the vibration of her mobile next to her, and she sighed in exhaustion. She assumed that it was Sally calling to question her again, but when she saw the caller ID, she smiled softly and clicked to answer it.

"Already? There's something as too keen."

"I-um, I didn't mean it that way-"

"Hush. Don't take it so seriously, I'm actually glad that you called." Clara smiled.

"Really?" Doctor Smith said on the other end.

"Really." Clara assured him. "Now, tell me, what are your plans?"

"Well, okay then..." He said, and Clara could tell that he was grinning. "Lunch."

"The usual."

"Lunch...in Rome."

"Better."

"Of course it is."

"Where?"

"Ah, now _that's _the surprise Miss Oswald."

"Why does it have to be?"

"_How ridiculous and how strange to be surprised at anything which happens in life..._" he repeated poetically.

"Marcus Aurelius."

"Ah, yes."

"So you know him?"

"I know everybody."

Clara smirked. The charm of this guy.

"When?" Clara asked.

"Wednesday."

"Why Wednesday?"

"Why _not_ Wednesday?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, it's just, why'd you choose it?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

Clara smirked and bit her lip. "Fine, lunch Wednesday. I'll send you the address for the hotel."

"...so I suppose I'll see you then, Miss Oswald?"

"Certainly...Doctor." Clara smiled.

_...Wednesday._

* * *

Clara pulled out her mother's journal and her blue pen, for she had decided to write a little something each day from her travels. She pondered at what to write down, for she didn't want it to be too dull. She had decided to dedicate her entries to someone who was close to her, someone unusual, someone unforeseen...

_Dear Oswin,_

Clara smiled to herself. _Oswin._ The one person she was closest to, the name she was known for.

Oswin wasn't her real name; it wasn't written on her birth certificate, in fact, it was just her nickname for when she was little. She got the name from Oswin herself, and Oswin wasn't even a real person.

_"Would you like to play with us?" Nina asked on a particularly cloudy day on the playground. Clara looked up from her book and stared at her for a moment, for it wasn't likely that someone would ask her to play with them. She was an isolated little girl; spending her afternoon recess time reading under a tree on the outskirts of the playground. It's not that no one liked her, it was that she preferred to be left alone._

_"What are you playing?" Clara asked, trying to act unimpressed._

_"We're playing secret agents." Nina whispered slyly, a grin on her face._

...well at least it wasn't fairy princesses._ Clara thought, considering the offer. She blinked twice at the girl before her, for everyone already knew it, Nina wasn't the best student. She hated everything about teachers, she was most likely to get poor grades, and she was one of those people who got into trouble frequently for punching boys in the stomach._

_"Sure." Clara said hesitantly, closing her book shut and placing it on the ground below her._

_"Great!" Nina beamed. "Who are you going to play?"_

_"Sorry?"_

_"Well you need a character." Nina smiled, rolling her eyes._

_"Um..." Clara mumbled. "Can you make one up?"_

_"Yeah, sure."_

_Clara smiled and thought about it for a moment. "...I'll be Oswin."_

_"Oswin?"_

_"Yes, Oswin. The girl who knows everything, every computation; the smartest girl in the whole universe!"_

_Nina raised her eyebrows in surprise. "...okay. Cool." She finally said. "You really are a nerd aren't you?"_

_"I'll take that as a compliment." Clara smiled sweetly._

_Nina stared at her for a moment, and with a small hesitant grin on her face, motioned for her to run out onto the playground. "Well, come on now!" She said, running off._

_Clara smiled and turned to her book beside her. She didn't want anyone to take it, so she dumped a pile if Autumn leaves on top of it to hide it. "I'll be back for you." She reassured her book, then running off to Nina and her friends._

From that day on, Clara was known as Oswin, the most intelligent girl in the universe. (Or in school, for that matter.) Other classmates were quite surprised at this, for Clara, a sweet, smart, shy girl, was playing with _Nina_, who was quite the opposite.

When Clara was fourteen, the secret agent thing had already stopped long ago, but her friends still called her Oswin. But when she moved a few months later, it just stopped all at once. She didn't keep in touch with Nina, or any of her other friends for that matter. She had moved on.

_"For your next assignment, I want you to write a fictional story about a character you create, preferably ten chapters or more." Mrs. Parkin said one day in Clara's literature class._

Oswin._ Clara thought after a massive amount of brain storming. An idiotic and childish grin appeared on her face, and she was sure that Sally gave her a look from across the room, not like she cared anyway._

Oswin, the girl who was a fantasized character from when Clara was seven, had become the sassy, intellectual badass in Clara's literature anecdote. It was probably the best thing she'd ever done.

_"Clara," Mrs. Parkin called her as everyone was getting their books together. The bell had just rung, and everyone was eager to get to lunch. "May I see you for a moment?"_

_"Ooh, Clara got into trouble, that's a surprise." Peter joked, passing by Clara's desk._

_"Oh, shut up." Clara grinned, playfully hitting him in the shoulder. He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed back._

_"Yes, Mrs. Parkin?" Clara said after everyone evacuated the classroom._

_"I'd just like to acknowledge you for your exquisite work on your literature novel."_

_"Oh, that." Clara smiled. "Yeah, I had lots of fun writing it."_

_"I can tell." She smiled. "Where did you get the idea for it?" She asked."...and Oswin, how did you come up with her character?"_

_"Oh, Oswin..." Clara laughed. "She was a girl I pretended to be when I was little, me and my friends would pretend to be secret agents, spies, stuff like that."_

_Mrs. Parkin laughed warmly. "Oh, how lovely." She smiled. "...have you ever thought of publishing this Clara? It's a fantastic piece of work, you would be a wonderful writer. At the young age of sixteen too." She pointed out. "I'm sure that a publisher would be certainly pleased."_

_"...oh wow, um..." Clara said, aghast. She had never thought something like this would make such an impression on her teacher. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd like to keep the story to myself, for personal reasons, I mean," Clara urged to explain._

_"Ah, yes, I understand, no need to worry." her teacher responded, nodding her head. "Well, I loved reading your work, Clara, it was lovely."_

_Clara smiled back. "...does that mean I get a good grade?"_

_Her teacher laughed and adjusted her glasses. "Well, I'll leave that up to you to wonder about." She said. "You'll get it back next week."_

_Clara nodded in response._

_"Now," she said. "You better got off to lunch, you must be hungry."_

_"Yes ma'am.!" Clara grinned. "...and thank you."_

_"You're welcome."_

_With that, she left the classroom and raced down the hall, for her stomach was quite agitated._

Clara started at her handwriting for a few moments, thinking of what to write down. She wanted to make it worth reading. Clara laughed a bit. _As any other girl's fantasy..._

_Dear Oswin,_

_Today I met a boy..._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Whoa! Over 1,000 views! Thank you so much to everyone who's read! :)

**AND I JUST RECENTLY WATCHED THE TRAILER FOR THE TIME OF THE DOCTOR AND ASDFGHJKL I'M SPEECHLESS.**

* * *

Chapter Six: Lover Boy

_...I have no idea as to what I'm doing am I?_

Doctor John Smith stared at himself in the mirror, for he had been standing there, pondering, for the longest time. Simply staring at himself, paralyzed, wondering what to do. His mind was modifying to the fact that he had actually asked a girl to lunch, but even more, that she had actually said _yes. _He had never been on a proper _date_, unless you counted a classmate that so happened to be of the opposite gender coming over to his flat for a few questions on advanced quantum mechanics, which hardly counted at all.

He nervously straightened his bow tie and smoothed his hair out, because whatever he was doing, he wanted to do it well. He wasn't really one to flirt with himself, so with an awkward stare in the face and a reassuring yet sheepish smile, he put his tweed coat on and apprehensively walked out of his hotel room, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

_...okay. _He breathed in slowly, staring at the door that stood before him. _I just have to knock. It's not hard. _He thought to himself, for he was making a simple 'hello' harder than it really should have. _...what do I say? _

It was as though his mind had a change of plans, so surprisingly, he lightly rapped on the door in front of him, promptly regretting it, the other part of his mind racing with all of the possibilities of how a simple conversation could go so horribly wrong.

But before he could make any plans of escaping the situation, the door swiftly opened, a fairly calm Clara standing on the other side. "Hello." she smiled sweetly.

"Hi Clara." he replied shyly.

Clara smiled up at him again. "Enjoying your holiday?"

"Um...yeah. Lots." he gave her a small smile.

A moment of silence broke out between the two, unknowing of what to say next. Clara stared at her feet, reluctantly waiting for the presence of conversation to somewhat appear again. But after a while, Clara couldn't hold it in.

Clara giggled. "So, Chin Boy, you promised me lunch then?"

"Oi, what's wrong with my chin?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it, did I?"

"Well, I'm not called Chin Boy."

"Course you are."

"By who?!"

"By _me._" Clara smirked, turning to go back into her hotel room to retrieve her coat.

_Chin Boy... _Doctor John Smith repeated in his head with slight distaste. _Can't I at least have a decent epithet? _He shook his head to himself with disapproval, for _Chin Boy _wasn't exactly in his liking.

Clara returned a moment later, a crimson red trench coat tucked underneath her arm, then closing the door behind her. She gave John a quick smile before he held out his arm, for at least that's what he thought was appropriate. She raised an eyebrow at his gesture, which at then he started to feel a bit apprehensive. But she heartily wrapped her arm around his anyway, making him feel less anxious.

He took a quiet sigh of relief, even though there really shouldn't have been anything to worry about. He felt complacent over how his late morning was proceeding, even though he knew that Amy would suggest it needed a little work. The whole scenario of dating was patently new to him, which wasn't surprising. He was mediocre when it came to talking to girls that he fancied, but actually, Clara was _the only _girl he fancied.

* * *

Clara carefully sipped her tea and quietly observed the surroundings around her little café table. Locals rode atop the cobblestone on motorbikes, waving to other people they so happened to recognize. The architecture of the buildings surrounding them were aesthetic, old, and yet so intimate, as if Clara had known them for years. A pleasant rush of the November breeze blew through her hair, the sun blazing down, an umbrella to shade tourists and residents as they ate peacefully with cheerful conversation.

She popped a chip in her mouth, for that's all she felt was appetizing at the moment. Tea and chips. Possibly dessert. She wasn't quite sure yet.

"...you mind if I call you Doctor?" Clara asked all of a sudden, her chin propped up by her arm, staring at the boy in front of her.

"Why?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Well, you're obviously not a huge fan of Chin Boy, and it just sort of..." Clara paused for a moment, reaching across the table to straighten his bow tie. "...fits."

He blinked at her a few times, considering it. _...Doctor. _He smiled to himself. _No_t _bad._

Clara smirked, her tiny hands cupping her teacup, slowly taking a sip before setting it down on the soft white tablecloth. "So, _Doctor,_" she said with slight emphasis and remarkable interest. She hardly even knew him, so it seemed appropriate to get to know him a little bit more. "What did you do before doing all this? An occupation, I mean."

"Information Technologist." he replied simply. "You?"

"Barista." Clara said amusingly, for it didn't sound as such a professional and salaried employment as his did.

"Ah, love a good barista." he sighed, eyes glancing down to the coffee cup before him.

"Well consider this you're lucky day then." Clara said slyly in a hushed voice. The Doctor smiled.

"...do you ever dream Doctor?"

He laughed. "Of course I do, everyone does."

"Yes, but what do you dream _about?" _she asked.

"...traveling."

"Well I suppose that dream's become actuality then."

"Not exactly."

Clara sat back in her chair, studying him._ Not exactly. _She narrowed her eyes in slight confusion. "Are you trying to say that there's more to this than there actually is?"

"If _this_ is referring to life, then yes."

The two were silent, staring at each other in such interest and pleasantry. Clara could see the complacency in his eyes, those bright, brilliant, _green eyes, _staring back at her. She raised an eyebrow at his responses, impressed from his cleverness rather than the state of abnormality. The Doctor was divergent in a multiplex sea of human beings, that is, if he even _was_ a human being, and at this point Clara wasn't exactly sure. Rising from the crowd by the quality of bow ties, the mannerism of being simply awkward, and the peculiarity of having such a distinctive persona.

"Are you an alien?" she so happened to ask with a hint of amusement in her speech.

"I am, yes, okay with that?"

"Fine, yeah. Think I'm fine."

"Oh good." he said brightly, straightening his bow tie.

"Why do you wear that anyway?"

"Bow ties are cool." he shrugged in conviction, a small smirk on his face.

"And why do you keep a pocket watch?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the aesthetic piece of metal brass partially hidden behind his coat.

"Because it's simply incomparable to just any ordinary numbers on a mobile screen."

Clara stared at him in curiosity and fascination, for someone so archaic as he could be so charming at the same time. She admired it actually, the unorthodox bow tie, the petty remarks that accompanied her questions, the aspect of him being so unusually primitive.

"Clara Oswald, have you ever thought of traversing through something you've never even thought was possible?"

"Like what?"

"Like _time_." he said in a hushed yet lucid tone of voice, as if it was the one of the most beautiful things ever said.

Clara's eyes glimmered with revelation and perplexity, the words new to her mind, never before said in that particular perspective before. _So clever. _She thought to herself. _So different. _

_So alien._

He believed in the impossible, the unexplainable, the impractical disarray of science yet to be discovered, and yet he still went beyond it. Clara's imagination seemed as though a miniscule of The Doctor's; always the one ahead, knowing so much, yet remaining in his mind and _his _mind alone.

"If you really _are _a time traveler, then who'd be your companion, Doctor?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Small update, changed the cover, still same story! ;)

This chapter will be quite an easy-going one, but the next chapter takes the story on a slightly different turn. ;D I'm so excited!

* * *

Chapter Seven: To Ponder

Clara decided to remain comfortable in her bed, unsure of what to do in the next few hours. She had decided to ponder, which is something that could keep her occupied for a mere hour or so. She smiled into her soft white pillow, for in her mind, she couldn't stop replaying the events of the previous day.

_"Will you be free again sometime this week?" The Doctor asked as they approached her hotel room, their footsteps making hardly any sound as they walked by._

_Clara bit her bottom lip, for how she wanted to make time for him. "I'm not sure." she said at last. "I'm leaving this Saturday, and I have plans for the rest of the week..." she trailed off, a feeling of guilt rummaging inside of her. "I'm sorry." she blurted out, maybe even a little too obvious._

_"No, it's fine." he replied. "Human beings with their lives, always busy. Don't worry about it." _

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Positive."_

_Clara gave a small smile before sliding her room key into the lock of the door, swiftly opening it, at which at that point turning around again to face him. "If only I had more time..."_

_The Doctor smiled at her, his green eyes staring at her. "Maybe one day we'll find time." he finally said. He looked down at his feet, unsure of whether he should say his next words. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, my hotel's just a block away, can't miss it. Fourth floor, to the left, second door to the right." he said, making Clara giggle._

_"Well how am I supposed to remember that?"_

_"I know you will." _

_Clara sighed and with gratitude, for he was clever. Maybe even a little too clever. "...thank you Doctor." _

_"My pleasure, Miss Oswald." he smiled, lacing his fingers with hers, placing a light kiss to the back of her hand, making Clara's cheeks flush slightly pink. _

_She smiled shyly, stepping back into her hotel room, quietly closing the door, The Doctor feeling more than complacent. _

_Behind the door, Clara stared out of the hotel window in dubiety and slight shock. There was a slight pull at her heartstrings that she'd never felt before, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. It wall all so new to her, having feelings like this, unknown to her mind. She felt so shy, so tiny, so confused. She was falling into something that she was afraid of. Not fear, nor depression, but intimacy. Maybe it seemed blatantly inauthentic, but it was true.  
_

That was just a day ago.

Clara had found it as history, a memory that kept coming back to her, one that she kept thinking about, one that she _could _think about for a decent amount of time. Trying to decipher the events into a way that she could understand, but the real problem was, she was without experience.

She'd never been in an earnest relationship before, she'd never seen a boy in a different perspective of the others, they were all a part of a crowd, inconsequential to the things that really mattered. Clara was rather pensive when it came to education, so she just never had the time.

Clara sleepily threw the covers off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed, for she had decided that she needed to get out, take a walk, admire the scenery a bit. But in honesty, she just needed the air to think. She grabbed her pale pink sweater lazily hanging from the back of the desk chair, its sleeves generously longer than her arms. Clara grabbed her wallet from her bedside table in case she needed anything and quickly stuffed it in her sweater pocket. She stared at her reflection in the full length mirror, for at least she looked decent. She didn't have the motivation to change out of the black leggings she had worn to bed, and her hair was extremely matted to her surprise. Clara ran her hand though her hair a few times to settle the untamed hairs and nodded in propriety, slipping on her shoes. She carelessly opened the door of her room and paced her way out, her mind in preparation for the massive amount of ideas and impressions coming to storm through her head.

* * *

The driver politely opened the door of the taxi as Clara stepped out, thanking him, then watching him mannerly step back into his seat up front, driving off into the assembly of other vehicles trying to get to places. Clara sighed into the fresh air surrounding her, for Rome had been a great experience so far.

She'd requested that she'd been taken to one of Rome's attractive parks, for she thought that it would've been a superior place to just walk and think, which was what she thought was necessary at the moment.

Her feet followed the path before her, Clara hugging herself to provide more warmth from the crisp November breeze. Mothers with their children pleasurably walked down the path with ease, laughing and talking.

Clara had taken care of some children in the past, she'd actually received a generous amount of compliments saying that she was great with children, but she had never actually thought about having her own. She smiled at the thought of it, for she knew that taking care of children would be strenuous, but at least she had experience with _that_.

"Excuse me?" a voice came from behind her.

"Yes?" Clara asked, turning to face a man in a grey trench coat, a camera in his hand.

"Could you please take a picture of my girlfriend and I?" he asked politely. "If you don't mind, that is."

"Oh, of course." Clara smiled.

He handed her the camera which she took carefully into her tiny hands, positioning the frame and making sure the focus was just right. She stared at the couple before her, both smiling brightly in her direction. She took the picture and gave the camera back to the man, smiling and thanking her for her gratitude.

"Have a nice day, Miss." he beamed.

"You too." Clara waved as they walked in the opposite direction from hers, Clara sighing in content. _So happy. _Clara smiled to herself, thinking that maybe, maybe just _one day_, she might be asking random strangers to take pictures of her and some boy. _Who'd he be? _Clara asked to herself, letting out a chuckle. She wasn't quite sure yet.

She continued on her walk down the path, admiring the scene her eyes saw. The ducks swimming in the lake behind the trees, the sun shining through its leaves, people passing by her, respecting their leisure time. She gave interest to the architecture of the ornate stone fountains and furnishings.

Clara finally became settled on a park bench, for she had been walking for quite a while now. She quietly observed the people walking by, for they all seemed so lighthearted, not a single care seeming to bother them. _Maybe one day we'll find time. _She repeated his words.

The Doctor. She didn't know what to do with him, and she was too stubborn to admit the truth that she knew all too well.

The Doctor was the only one who really made an impression on her, the only boy who didn't seem like the others. Unusual, of course, but just so...kind.

Clara closed her eyes and thought to herself. _If I'm really going to give in... _She thought, sighing quietly. Then she had to admit it. She liked him. The Doctor. And if she would ever get the chance to see him again, if he too had the same interest as her, could they possibly love each other?

Clara didn't know, but she was willing to try.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**I had to divide this chapter into two for organizational purposes (And for the fact that without the division it would be ridiculously long!). :) Thanks!

* * *

Chapter Eight: Remedies 

"What do you mean _canceled_?!" Clara pleaded to the ground stewardess, and even though Clara knew she couldn't do anything to help, she was being awfully annoying. It was Saturday morning, and Clara had woken up extra early to get to her flight on time, only to receive the unfortunate news that it had been discontinued.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm afraid your seven o'clock morning flight to Amsterdam has been abandoned due to the traffic in holiday traveling." she repeated yet _again_, and even though she said it, Clara knew she wasn't showing any sympathy towards her.

"But what about the sixty percent of luggage I just checked in?!" Clara was starting to panic.

"Your luggage takes a separate course when traveling, so it should be on its way to your destination." she replied.

"Well, are there any other flights to Amsterdam today?"

"I'm sorry, but the next available flight over there is in two weeks."

"Two _weeks?!_" Clara said, her mind starting to break down. "I can't, that just makes everything even more of a dilemma..." Clara tried not to cry, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.

"In apologies of the vital delay, the airline will pay for the rest of your stay in the hotel."

"Okay..." Clara said weakly, sniffling.

"Do you still want to schedule the flight for Amsterdam in two weeks? Or will you be traveling to another destination?"

"Um...I'm not sure." Clara stuttered, not knowing what to do. "Can I call you in a few days with my decision?"

"Of course."

"Okay...thanks I guess." Clara said sadly, violently pulling her two suitcases behind her and starting to walk away, utterly confused and agitated.

"Have a nice day ma'am!" the ground stewardess said.

_Are you serious?! _Clara thought angrily to herself, for she certainly wasn't in the mood.

* * *

Clara practically fell into the driver's seat of her rental car and immediately started to cry. _It's all just one, screwed up mess... _She thought to herself, salty tears running down her cheeks. _More than half of my luggage is gone! _She wanted to start screaming, but she knew the passerby would look at her and assume that she had a mental problem, so she just screamed inside of her head. She didn't know what to do, her family wasn't here to console her, to arrange some other plan, nothing. She was alone. Clara hadn't assumed the worst, and yet it still happened. She was majorly unprepared for this.

Clara leaned her head on the glass window of her car, her mind irate and exhausted. She didn't know where to go, or what to do, she was completely lost. _I'm such a coward. _She thought to herself. _I'm such an idiot! _She cried ever harder. Clara was always an independent being, but as of the moment, she felt so alone, so tiny, so helpless. _I don't know who I am anymore._

All she really wanted was somebody to talk to.

* * *

The Doctor chewed on the cap of his pen, staring at the complex map of Rome. He circled a destination and nodded in approval. He wasn't one to plan before hand, so he just made up his schedule as he went along. He liked to do a lot of things on a whim, and that's just how he was.

Suddenly, he heard a faint knock on his door, to which he jumped up a little from surprise. _I didn't order any room service, did I? _He asked himself. _No, I didn't..._ He assured himself, a bit perplexed. He shrugged and pushed himself out of his chair, leisurely walked over to the door and swiftly opened it, only to see Clara standing outside his door.

He was taken aback from her appearance. It looked as though she had been crying, _sobbing _even; her eyes red and bloodshot. She sniffled a bit, wiping a tear with the sleeve of her jacket. Her hair was a mess, tangles and hairs sticking up here and there. She seemed exhausted, but even more upset.

"Clara, what happened?" The Doctor asked her, looking into her brown eyes with concern.

It was then when she fell into his arms, sobbing even more than she had before.

The Doctor was taken aback by her gesture, but genuinely hugged her back. "It's okay..." he said softy, stroking her hair, making Clara feel a bit better. "What happened?" he asked again.

Clara stepped back from the hug and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry..." she spoke in a weak voice. "I'm overreacting...sorry...I'm crying for some stupid reason."

"Well, what is it?" The Doctor asked in a calm voice, wanting to help her.

"My flight..." she replied. "It got canceled, which basically screws up my whole trip, and most of luggage is lost... and..." she trailed off. "I just don't know what to do...I'm sorry... I just really need someone to talk to."

"It's alright." he said. "I'm here." and with those words, he pulled her in for another hug, in which Clara generously accepted.

"You want to sit down and talk about it...?" he asked kindly, gesturing towards the pair of lounge chairs at the back of the room. Clara gave out a small nod.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asked her once she became comfortable.

"If I go to Amsterdam in two weeks I'll miss my next flight, so that's not a positive option. I might just book a flight back to London, I don't know." She replied helplessly, a slight headache irritating her.

"...I'm sorry." He finally said to her, for he knew how much the trip meant to her, like a chapter of a book, pages ripped out, missing, the days that she knew would never happen.

"It's just..." Clara choked on a sob. "I didn't expect this to happen, I didn't know..."

The Doctor was silent, for he wanted to help her so badly, he just didn't know how.

"...where are you heading to next?" Clara asked all of a sudden.

"...I fly out to New York Monday morning." He replied quietly.

Clara nodded her head and bit her bottom lip, holding back tears she didn't want to let go of. "I just..." She said weakly. "I just don't know what to do."

"...the ideal man bears with the accidents of life with dignity and grace, making the best of circumstances." He repeated with slight enthusiasm, in hopes that he would cheer her up.

In response, Clara gave him a small smile. "Aristotle." She said quietly.

The Doctor smiled back at her, for the quoting thing could become a ritual between them.

"I wish I could do something to help." He admitted, looking down at the floor.

"I wish that you could."

There was a silent moment in between the two, not out of awkwardness, but for the quiet. Clara liked listening to the sound of absolute peace as her mind became calm and her head cleared up a bit from the panic. It helped her to focus and to conclude that _this_ was reality, and she had to deal with it whether she wanted it or not.

She stared at The Doctor, wearing his white shirt and shorts, as she felt a bit confused for no particular reason. She'd just never seen him in any other attire than his ridiculous bow tie ensemble.

"So what are you going to do next?" The Doctor asked.

"I don't know, probably get back to my hotel, I just need to figure out some things...that's all." She shook her head.

The Doctor nodded slightly and gave her a warm, hopeful smile in which she shyly returned.

"Thanks for putting up with me. I know I'm being stupid..."

"No...how could you ever be?" The Doctor questioned her in a serious tone of voice. He was a little surprised at how she could insult herself so easily. "Clara...so brilliant, so beautiful..."

She smiled at his words, wanting to remember them for a while.

"I mean it when I say that." He spoke kindly.

"...thank you." She spoke, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: The Alternative

He stared up at the dusty ceiling fan of his hotel room, lost in a monotonous, never-ending chain of thought. The Doctor, one who was usually perfectly capable at making superior plans, was barricaded.

Rome was beautiful, the parks, the ruins, and all, but he just couldn't focus on that today. After what happened that morning, he couldn't focus on anything else.

He just wanted Clara to be okay.

She called at around noon, announcing to him that she had still been trapped in her hotel room, papers and contracts overwhelming her, trying to cancel flights and hotel reservations. The Doctor felt sorry for her, for she had worked so busily to earn this trip, and only got to experience a portion of it. _Nearly six years. _She had told him when they had first met. Six years of making this possible, six years for nothing. Clara didn't deserve that. Nobody did.

He wanted to help her, but how could he? No available flights, no other way, no other possibilities.

_...unless..._

No. He couldn't do that. She wouldn't possibly agree to that.

But there was a possibility.

It was an unexpected plan of his, but it was the only way. He became willing to try it, mainly because there simply wasn't another way he could help her.

So with a hopeful grin on his face, he grabbed his laptop from his bedside table along with his mobile, and nervously entered in a number. The other line rang two times before a cheerful voice greeted him on the other end.

"Yes, hello, I'd like to make a small arrangement," he notified.

* * *

"We thank you for calling, you will be put on hold for the next available operator."

Clara groaned in frustration, for this was her third call. She was becoming especially agitated and impatient, for it seemed as though the only thing she did that day. Call, complain, wait, and explain. She was tired of it.

"Hello?" she heard another voice on the line.

"Ah, hello, yes!" Clara cried out in relief. "Yeah, I'd like to cancel my reservation for-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Yes?" the other line sounded.

"Yeah, sorry-" Clara sighed in frustration, for whoever was at the door, they were making quiet a ruckus.

"Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

"I said-" Clara attempted, the knocking still continuing, unwilling to give in. "You know what, never mind, I'll call back later." she finally said, hanging up.

"_Coming!" _she called out to whoever was behind the door, a persistent being at the most. She shook her head to herself, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, lazily walking over to the door.

"Clara!" The Doctor exclaimed, excited to see her.

"Hi Doctor." Clara slapped on a fake smile, exhausted from the work. "Next time, you could just knock once you know."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that." he looked down at his feet.

"So, what did you come here for?" Clara asked, a bit perplexed.

"Oh, right!" he snapped his fingers, getting back to his main point. "Clara Oswald, I have a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yes, a plan."

"Is it going to work?"

"No, yes, possibly, maybe, I don't know." he replied, flailing his arms around for emphasis. He did that a lot.

Clara giggled. "Well, what is it?"

The Doctor became a bit more tense as she asked that. He was a bit nervous in all honesty, and wasn't sure how to tell her. He didn't know if it would work or not, but it was worth a decent try.

So with one last breath, he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a slim white envelope. He handed it to her, and she took it into her tiny hands in confusion. "What's this?" she asked, eying it carefully.

"...an alternative." he replied.

She carefully opened the envelope, curious as to what its contents might be. The flap tore open as Clara ripped it carefully, taking out a thin slip of paper.

It took her a while for her eyes to actually perceive it, and when they did, Clara fell silent, in awe and astonishment. _No..._ She thought. _It couldn't be._ A plane ticket. For New York. "I..." Clara stuttered. "...I can't... are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"The cautious seldom err..." The Doctor smirked.

"...Confucius." Clara said in barely a whisper, her eyes still fixed on the ticket.

"One more trip." The Doctor said. "With me."

"But...what about-"

"I'll pay for it to be sent back to London. Airport will gladly hold it for a few more weeks. No worries. I think you could manage one trip with two suitcases."

Clara was speechless.

"Come with me?" he asked hopefully, a small smile on his face.

Clara stood in sheer shock. He'd just ask her to travel with him. To New York. An alternative that could let her ambition live on just a bit, just enough.

"So... what do you say?"

Clara shook her head in amazement, for she couldn't believe him. At all. Yet it was something that wasn't possible to reject. So with a shy yet reassuring smile, she told him.

"...yes."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Honestly, I'd just like to thank everyone who has been reading this and supporting it for the past couple months or so. You all are amazing. :)

**ALSO MERRY CHRISTMAS! (Or Christmas Eve, depending on where you are, timey wimey stuff. xD) HAPPY HANUKKAH! Well no matter what you celebrate, I hope you have a happy holiday!**

**AHHH I JUST CAN'T SEE ELEVEN LEAVE. YOU'LL ALWAYS BE IN OUR (TWO) HEARTS. We'll never forget you. **

* * *

Chapter Ten: Hand in Hand

Sunday evening, Clara took a generous sip from her complimentary tea mug and stared at the satisfactory of her work she had done.

She had promised herself that she wouldn't procrastinate this time when it came to packing, and procrastination was her specialty. So one may see how it would be an obvious dispute with herself to just simply _force_ her physique to do the job; it was a body over mind situation.

It was one of those kind of things in which you wish that someone else was there to do it for you, such as easily taking an exam without _actually_ doing the studying. Sure, one with a supposed 'mature' mind would call it laziness, but Clara liked to think of it as work interrupting her leisure time.

She _could've_ had the motivation to do it, but she didn't.

That was the hard part.

Forcing herself to fold shirts and skirts to its pristine conditions and equal proportions made her mind over think things a bit more than they really should have. She was a neat freak without the energy to put in a bit of effort.

Maybe she sounded like she was blatantly slacking off, but at that point she would've asked you already, _'When in Rome_, _what other million things_ _would you rather be __doing_ _than staying in your room_ _and packing your apparel?'._ To place emphasis on her point, she would've recited the words, _'When in Rome, do as the Romans do_.' She wasn't afraid to use her exquisite literary skills; they were probably her most powerful weapon.

She could've gone out on a walk, gone out for a tour, gone out and smelled the azaleas a bit, maybe even taken a nap or two, but _no_. She had to pack.

At least she didn't have to do it at one in the morning, causing herself to get a mere three hours of sleep. The flight was at six thirty, practically the break of dawn.

Maybe procrastination _was_ a poor influence on her.

Not like she could prevent it, anyway.

But complaining was probably unnecessary by now, considering that Clara was already _finished_. (Which was a major relief.) She sighed in satisfactory and perched herself on the edge of her seat, admiring the pair of perfectly arranged suitcases.

_I'm going to New York tomorrow. _She thought to herself, smiling in slight excitement.

* * *

"Gate number forty-seven flight to New York, passengers are ready to board!" The ground stewardess said in an ecstatic voice that woke up most of the somnolent people surrounding her. Clara and The Doctor had been clever though and got coffee beforehand.

"Excited?" The Doctor asked her.

Clara nodded. "I...I can't thank you enough for doing this, you really didn't have to."

"But I still did, didn't I?" He replied, leaving Clara to give him a sly smile.

"Yeah...you did." She spoke in her quietest of voices, making sure that he still heard, and no one else.

* * *

The seating arrangement was quite enjoyable, Clara and The Doctor got the row to themselves. She finally had to give him the window seat though, for they quarreled like children for it.

_"Why can't I get the window seat?"_

_ "No."_

_ "Please?"_

_ "I said no." Clara grinned._

_ "Pretty please?"_

_ "No!" she giggled. _

_"Just give me a chance!"_

_ "Give me a good reason."_

_ "Who's paying for your international travel?" He reminded her, making it sound too much like a petty comment. _

_Clara was silent for a moment, then playfully slapping him on the shoulder. "Fine."_

Clara grinned to herself at how childish one could be.

She let out a small yawn into the sleeve of her jacket, for even though she had succeeded to pack early and not to procrastinate, she couldn't sleep easily. The fact that _she _was going to _New York _had made her restless during the night, only to pay its toll in the morning.

"You tired?" The Doctor asked.

"Yeah." Clara responded, her ambitions to hopefully get some sleep before they arrived in New York. She sleepily rested her head on The Doctor's shoulder, her mind slowly drifting off to sleep.

The Doctor smiled and rested his head on hers in comfort, for how one could be so close to him made him feel rather amiable. "_A well-spent day brings happy sleep_." He whispered to her as she fell asleep.

"Da Vinci." she managed to reply quietly.

* * *

With Clara asleep, her head still rested soundly on his shoulder, The Doctor had some time to think for himself. _Clara. _He repeated her name in his head. Her beautiful name. Clara. She was the only girl that he felt slightly nervous around, yet so euphoric when he was with her. Actually, she made him feel a lot of things at once, something too inexplainable for science. The one girl that was capable of provoking a manifold of things into such a person, pleasantries and anxieties.

In his mind, that was impossible.

_An impossible girl. _

* * *

_"_Oh my stars..." Clara breathed as the doors of the taxi opened, the fresh white snow falling into her dark brown hair. "It's...beautiful." They had only exited the plane a mere thirty minutes ago, Clara a little too eager to get outside. So with a fairly thick coat and a grey fedora (Luckily Clara had packed the essentials to colder weather.), Clara was able to do so. The city lights. Glimmering everywhere and in every way possible. The beautiful, tiny, intricate snowflakes falling on the pavement to make patches of while, flawless snow. The people, seemingly so busy, yet finding the time to admire the city's pleasurable attractions.

"Yeah, it really is." The Doctor replied beside her, for he had just finished tipping the driver. "Well, we better get going inside, or else we'll freeze to death."

Clara giggled as she looked at him in the eye. "As long as I'm seeing all of this, I'd find that to be okay."

* * *

The Doctor opened the door to reveal the two-bed hotel room, Clara finding it rather comfortable and homey. She breathed on the scent of it all, and she scented peppermint. She smiled as pair dragged their luggage into the corner of the room and both fell onto their beds in satisfactory.

"Surprisingly, I'm not that tired anymore." Clara giggled, turning to face him.

"Oh, that's good."

Clara smiled at him. "Why ever so?"

The Doctor stood up and paced the floor a bit, making it obvious that he wanted to tell her something.

"Tell, me. What are we doing tonight?" Clara asked in suspicion and curiosity, standing up as well.

"Something awesome, Miss Oswald."

"Oh you are just _full _of surprises."

"Yeah, maybe I am." he replied slyly, pulling out two slips of paper from his coat pocket once again.

Clara read the fine print. _The Phantom of the Opera._

Clara gaped. "You didn't..."

"If I didn't, this would all be just a figment of your imagination all seemingly too real."

Clara practically jumped into his arms at that point from the excitement. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close, and he hugged her back. It was just a moment of happiness and excitement for the two, in more ways than one.

New York was waiting for them, and in _certainly _more ways than one.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Attempting to recover from Eleven's regeneration. :'(

I was hoping I wouldn't be _too_ reluctant to keep writing about these two lovelies, but I happened to find the motivation to do so. I will continue to read and love The Chin and his Impossible Girl, and I hope you all do too! Eleven and Clara, I adore you two together. :)

* * *

Chapter Eleven: A Montage of Sorts  


Monday was The Phantom of the Opera. It was a phenomenon. Stunning. Absolutely _fantastic. _

_"I can sing like that." The Doctor noted as they exited the theatre, arms linked together, the stars illuminating the night sky above them._

_"No you can't." Clara scoffed. _

_"Yes I can."_

_"Then show me."_

_"Oh, but that's where you see Clara, a person such as yourself is not capable of hearing one's such angelic voice."  
_

_Clara laughed. "Then who is capable?"_

_"Nobody."_

* * *

Tuesday was when The Doctor took Clara on her first visit to The Statue of Liberty. And she had to admit, it surprised her at how colossal it looked like in person. She had always seen pictures in a few travel magazines, but _this_, this was too breathtaking.

_"My," she said quietly, looking up at her from where they stood. "That's just amazing."_

_"I've seen bigger."_

_"Really?"_

_"Are you joking?! It's massive!" he scoffed.  
_

* * *

Wednesday was The Empire State Building, and Clara was purely terrified.

_"All the way to the top...?" she asked nervously._

_"Yeah, come on! It'll be fun!"_

_"No it won't!" _

_"Why not?"_

_"I'm afraid of heights...!" Clara looked up from down below, a chill crawling through her spine as she realized how towering and terrifying it seemed. _

_But she knew that as long as she was with The Doctor, there was no way getting out of it, no matter how horrible the excuse was. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before she could protest any further. _

_"Don't worry about it!" he called over her shoulder, causing her to roll her eyes._

_"That doesn't really help."_

_Once they got to the top, after several complaints and a generous amount of walking, Clara closed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the city below her._

_"Clara," The Doctor laughed. "It's going to be fine. You can open your eyes."_

_"How are you so sure?"_

_"Just trust me Clara." _

_She groaned in frustration, for they weren't getting out of the place any much faster. "We're not leaving until I do, aren't we?" _

_"Nope." The Doctor replied._

_Clara bit her bottom lip as she carefully opened her eyes, and gasped at the sight of how far up they were, how far they were from the ground, how far she could fall. Clara immediately grasped The Doctor's arm, refusing to let go until they left.  
_

_"Want me to wrap my arms around you romantically like they did in Titanic?" The Doctor offered amusingly._

_"Don't be stupid." Clara laughed a bit, letting go of his arm for a split second just to slap him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh god..." she breathed into the cold New York air, the awareness of it all rushing into her mind. "We're so high up."_

_"I know." The Doctor whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her anyway._

_It wasn't another Titanic scene with the wind and all, but Clara delicately placed her hands atop of his, giving her enough comfort to assure her it was okay. _

_"I hate you for making me do this." she laughed, looking out into the orange sky. The Doctor only hugged her tighter in playful apology. _

* * *

Thursday was the day in which he took her to Central Park, a much more subtle place for Clara in fact. She mentally thanked The Doctor for not taking her anywhere too petrifying.

_She picked up a crimson leaf from the pavement and held it in her hands, smiling at its memory._

_"Nice leaf." The Doctor complimented._

_Clara laughed. "Yeah, thanks. It just sort of reminds me of my mum, that's all."_

_"Oh is that so?"_

_Clara nodded, twirling the stem of the leaf between her thumb and index finger. "Because of a leaf like this, they met. Because of this, I'm here today. It's just..." she trailed off, thinking of how important one leaf could possibly be. "Without it, I wouldn't even be here...and I would have never met you, weird, isn't it?"  
_

_"Indeed, maybe..." The Doctor replied. "But you see Clara, that's how the world works. Everything working together, in every possibility, no matter how miniscule or large, they're still important. If one fragment in time and space just was never created, then something is going to change, and that change would be so substantial." he lectured, hand movements and all. He could go on talking about it for hours, but he got a hold of himself, not sure if Clara was interested._

_Clara smiled though, letting go of the leaf, the wind carrying it to whoever it acknowledged it's presence. "That is why you never fail to impress me Doctor."_

* * *

Friday they walked down Times Square at night. It was the busiest commercial intersection she'd ever seen. Though Clara wasn't too absorbed in shopping, she managed to find a few shops she happened to take an interest to. It was the lights though that she admired the most. All of that energy focused on that main intersection and making such an appearance in the night sky, it was so overwhelming, which wasn't exactly a bad thing.

_"Aw, look." Clara said as she picked up a snow globe in one particularly tiny shop, amusingly almost as large as her own hands. All of the city, captured in one tiny glass globe, an ornate silver base to support it. "Pretty."  
_

_The Doctor stood behind her and smiled to himself as she tipped the snow globe upside down, the snow falling slowly onto the miniature city below it. _

_"Not the only thing that's pretty." he replied._

_"What could possibly-" Clara stopped mid sentence to stare at him, becoming fully aware of what he meant.  
_

_"Shut up." she smiled at him shyly, carefully placing the snow globe back on the shelf. _

* * *

...Clara wrote down all of it.

She tapped her pen on the page of her journal, for after writing about the events of this past week, she wrote another small entry, for herself. The thoughts that lingered in her mind, spilled out into four simple sentences.

_Dear Oswin, _

She paused for a moment to think, then her pen slowly writing the words for themselves, or so it seemed.

_One day, you meet The Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life. Because...because he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all...he really needs you.  
_

Clara stared down at the page before her and smiled to herself, closing her journal and placing it in her pillow case, staring at the boy who seemed so atypical, sleeping in the bed next to hers. The Doctor.

Clara smiled at him softly and lay her head down on her pillow, keeping the light on for her comfort. She closed her eyes, the sounds of city traffic fading from her as she fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** This chapter was so much fun to write! :D I had to listen to a bunch of feel-good/happy songs to get me in the mood. ;)

**WARNING: **In my opinion, this chapter is _extremely _fluffy, so prepare yourselves. :) Designed to keep your spirits up after the Christmas Special.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Off Balance

The Doctor opened his eyes to Clara sitting at the window, admiring the cityscape beyond it's glass barricade. She heard the faint sound of the covers rustling in the background, turning her head slightly to see him. "Morning." she smiled sweetly, her brown eyes a portrait of pure bliss.

"Morning Clara." he smiled sleepily, carelessly throwing the covers off of him. He swung his legs off of the bed and toddled over to her side, staring out to the scene that she seemed so interested in.

"It's snowing." Clara said softly; the snowflakes settling on the window before them.

"I can see that."

Clara giggled, then sighing at the grandeur that was New York's radiant buoyancy. The autumn leaves making their appearance before they buried themselves in the winter snow to decay. The animation of the people that walked the city sidewalks, either off to work, or just for sheer pleasure. The taxis that calmly made their way through the streets. The city was just waking up.

"Thank you." she whispered to the boy next to her.

"For what?"

"For everything." she smiled in optimism, as if it were so obvious.

He smiled back at her, the moment seeming to last a little longer than it should have.

"...can we go outside, Doctor?" Clara asked like a little girl, so excited, and The Doctor found it rather adorable.

"We have the whole morning to do whatever you like." he brimmed with pleasure.

Clara beamed at his response, rushing to get dressed, all of the little things in New York waiting to be discovered. This day was different, somehow; it had the atypical blitheness to it, which had the potential of making a day in particular one of the most quintessential.

And Clara knew that for sure.

* * *

"Can I get something from here really quick?" Clara asked in a vivacious manner, smiling at the tiny shop before her. It was one of the most delightful coffeehouses she had ever seen. (Apart from her former job, that is.) The snow falling on its striped awning, the miniature pine trees speckled with white snowflakes, the mouth-watering aroma coming from inside, Clara had to admit that they were good at keeping their appearance tidy.

The Doctor nodded towards her, for he intentionally meant for him to simply wait for her outside, until his eyes met the building down the block, changing from calm to extremely overly animated. His face lit up with a childish grin as Clara gave him a look.

"Um...yeah...about that." he said, his manner in excessive euphoria. "Can I meet you back out here in thirty minutes?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "What have you found this time?"

"_F.A.O. Schwarz_!"

"F.A.O. Schwarz." Clara repeated in clarification. "What?"

"One of the biggest-and the best- toy stores known to human history!" he said as if it were so obvious.

"A _toy _store?" Clara asked.

"Yes, a _toy store._" The Doctor replied, slightly mocking her tone in amusement.

Clara laughed. "Why?"

"Because, Clara Oswald, I feel as though adults need to be _childish _sometimes, or else they'll waste their money on boring stuff, such as lamps and vegetables."

Clara laughed even harder. "Oh gosh, you're acting like a five-year old."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Clara smiled at him. "No. And it'll never be."

The Doctor smiled at her childishly.

"See you in thirty?" she assured him.

"See you in thirty." he repeated, guaranteed that he would return on time...at least he hoped so. He practically ran down the block like the awkward alien he was, Clara trying to hold back her laughter at how childish he was.

She watched him disappear into the double doors of the building, Clara smiling to herself and shaking her head in amusement. She was surprised he hadn't fallen over in the process of getting there.

* * *

Clara cupped her coffee mug with her tiny hands, quietly listening to the sounds of the people around her. The small coffeehouse was far more than comfortable, and Clara easily felt at home. She was surprised at how many people had come at such an early time, for it was only around eight thirty and it seemed as though the place was already busy.

Clara thought about how much fun she was having on this trip, and how traveling alone seemed so lonely. She couldn't seem to thank The Doctor enough for what he'd done, buying her a ticket and all. She almost wondered if he felt a bit alone when it came to traveling all by himself, for it couldn't have been that enjoyable. They had each other.

Then she really thought about it. Whether time travel _really _was possible or not. It seemed so believable to The Doctor, and that's one of the things Clara loved about him the most. His peculiarity that made him so especially charming in a way that Clara admired, how he could seem like a child but know so much as someone so ancient. That's just what made him so different.

At first, it seemed as though he was too shy to admit even an acknowledgement to someone such as her, but after they met, that all seemed to disappear at once, this mad and insane, yet so very _kind _boy hiding behind such a shy persona; Clara was able to look behind all that.

Clara loved him, The Doctor, and couldn't do anything to change it.

Not like she would anyway.

* * *

"A cupcake shop?" Clara squinted at the map in front of her that afternoon, the sun peeking out through the clouds above them.

"Yeah, thought you might like it."

Clara grinned at The Doctor, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside before he could say anything else.

Within a few minutes, Clara placed a pink box on the table of the booth, a white ribbon neatly tied at the top. "I can't finish this by myself." she said truthfully

"So...?" The Doctor asked.

"_So_..." Clara continued on. "I got two forks." she said, sliding the metal utensil across the table. The Doctor stared at it for a brief moment, then picking it up in slight interest.

"Forks are weird."

Clara laughed. "Yeah, they kind of are."

They ate in blissful silence, the vanilla cupcake the only thing sweeter than their ego. Clara licked the snow-white frosting off of her fork, smiling at how pleasantly sugary it was. She flashed a sentimental smile at the boy across the table for no particular reason, or maybe just because she was feeling especially lighthearted. She just felt _happy_, which is something she hardly ever felt.

"Cherry," Clara said, when it was the only thing left.

"Yours." The Doctor replied.

Clara smiled, popping it into her mouth and removing the stem with her teeth. _Just plain sweet. _

* * *

"_Ice skating._"

"Yes, Clara, _ice skating_."

"I don't know how to skate."

"Well then I'll teach you."

"_You_ know how to skate...?"

"Yes, is that surprising?"

"...yes." Clara said, and she meant it. How could a man with such a problematic way of running know how to balance on a blade of thin steel? She had no answer. She didn't think anyone would.

* * *

Okay, she had to admit, he wasn't bad at skating. Better than the average, at least he knew how to glide around _without _falling. Clara grasped the wall for support, for if she had let go, she would fall at an instant. "_Doctor_," she whined.

"_Clara,_" he mocked her back. "I'm only a few feet away from you."

"I know, it's just..." Clara trailed off. What _was _she supposed to do with herself? She wasn't so sure. "...can you hold my hand?" she asked shyly.

The Doctor slid over to her and carefully took her cold hands from the wall, holding them in his, making sure she didn't fall. "It's okay," he assured her, smiling softly. "Just don't let go, you'll be fine, I promise." he said again, in a response she smiled back.

"Doctor-_no!_" Clara laughed as he pulled her further away from the protection of the side walls, her hands still in his. Clara started to breathe a little faster, not wanting to fall onto the ice.

"See? This isn't so bad."

"Yes it is." Clara assured herself.

"Don't worry, as long as you don't let go, you won't fall."

"...how?"

"Because your Clara."

"Why?"

"I never know why, I only know _who_." he smiled at her, pulling her along with him carefully, making sure she was okay.

Hand in hand.

Together.

Suddenly, he let go of her left hand, and seemingly she seemed okay with it, she got used to it. Then he let go of her other hand, and seemingly, she could hold her own balance. He skated only a mere few feet away from her, and she giggled as she hid her face with her tiny hands. "You're horrible." she giggled again, making her deal with her equilibrium all by herself. At least she could stand without falling.

"See? It's not that difficult." The Doctor told her.

She started to skate over to him slowly, doing rather well, that is, until she started to stumble, losing her balance. The Doctor caught her in his arms, holding her tight, placing her back on her feet again. "I got you." he assured her, holding her close.

"The things you make me do." Clara laughed, her hands on his shoulders for support. "You're insane."

"Thanks." he smiled, carefully taking one of her hands in his, placing his other on her waist, slow-dancing in the middle of an ice arena. Clara giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. The Doctor was so unusual, and that's what she loved about him. Clara didn't seem to mind about the peculiarity of them dancing, she found it rather sweet.

All of a sudden, Clara seemed to lose her balance, non-purposely falling onto the ice below her feet, bringing The Doctor down with her. She practically landed on top of him, the two laughing along with it. "I'm such a klutz." Clara laughed, her head resting on his chest. She turned to stare at him, his green eyes staring back at her, and she smiled.

He smiled back at her, lifting his hand to carefully tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful in his eyes. An impossible girl.

_His _impossible girl.

Suddenly, Clara carefully leaned her head down and kissed him softly, her first kiss, and it was him. The Doctor, this mad alien that didn't know how to run properly, this charming boy who knew seemingly knew more than the average human being, the one person that seemed so different to the rest, so unusual, so brilliant, so special to her, she wouldn't change him. Clara pulled away and smiled shyly, delicately brushing his long brown hair away from his eyes.

The Doctor smiled back at her, surprisingly not wanting to get up after the humiliating fall, yet the most paramount one. He was surprised, definitely, but in a pleasurable way at the most.

They were quiet for a moment, just them two together in their own little pocket of time and space, together, in that one frame, where it would be fixed forever, that second.

It would last as long as time would let them.

* * *

**A/N:** So...what did you all think? Like it, no, maybe so? ;D

For whoever might be unfamiliar to the subject, F.A.O. Schwarz is a toy company that has this _ginormous _store in NYC, if you get the chance to visit, please do. Been there myself a while back, and I must say, it is _shamazing_! xD

Also, the _lamps and vegetables_ thing isn't mine, I really wish it was, because it's simply brilliant. xD It's a small line in "Closing Time". :D (_Hehe, that rhymed.)_

Anyways, thank you for reading and thank you all for the lovely reviews! They really motivate me to keep writing. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Short and sweet chapter here for you all. ;)

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Bedtime Stories

"_Doctor!_" Clara squealed from the fact that he was tickling her even harder. "_Stop it!" _She laughed from the hysteria. She wasn't so sure how a night like this could lead to over excessive tickling, but then again, over excessive tickling wasn't _impossible. _

Clara had just opened the bathroom door after she had finished changing for bed when The Doctor asked of her weaknesses.

_"...I don't know, tickling?" Clara laughed, shrugging her shoulders._

Boy how she regretted saying that.

She was afraid that she was about to pass out from all the laughing, for she was starting to lose her breath, so she had to come up with something to defend her momentary lack of physical vitality. To save herself from her own sensitivity, she grabbed a pillow from the bed and started hitting his idiotic face with it, to which he gave in to protect himself, which only gave her the advantage to whack him even harder.

They were both laughing uncontrollably at the immaturity of each other in their ruthless pillow fight, The Doctor of having the disadvantage of not having an _actual_ pillow at hand. He snatched Clara's out of her hand as he stood up on the bed, hugging the pillow lovingly and reciting poetically:

"_And though she be but little, she is fierce._"

Clara stood up as well to meet his eye as she crossed her arms across her chest and grinned slyly. "Shakespeare, and are you making fun of my height?"

"Yes, because I find it rather cute." he said in a quirky manner, then playfully hitting the top of her head with the pillow.

Clara smiled shrewdly. "Give me that." She snatched the pillow from him as he did to her before, collapsing on her bed below them.

He jumped off and walked across the room to sit in the lounge chair by the window, carefully pulling back the brocade curtains to reveal the mysterious cityscape of New York at night. It was so interesting to see how the city could seem so inexplicable when the stars came out, as if you knew almost nothing about it, it's secrets, its deception, what really happened during the nighttime. "Your leaving Thursday morning, you know that right...?" he asked her quietly.

"Yeah." Clara smiled sadly, her head resting on her pillow.

He was staying another full week, while she had to leave a few days in advance, for it was the only available flight back to London in the next few weeks. He was flying out to Seattle next, and Clara had almost wished that she could come with him another time, but that would be asking for too much. Something made her wonder if he was thinking the same thing too.

"What happens next...? After this, I mean." Clara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know." The Doctor replied.

Clara gave him a small smile, in hopes that something would prevent her from leaving so quickly. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too, Clara Oswald." he looked at her with his green eyes, trying to tell her that he was going to be alright, being rather unconvincing.

_Those, big, sad eyes. _Clara thought to herself, picking herself up from her bed and toddling over to his, laying down and staring up at the boy whom she had grown to love so much. "Can you tell me a story, Doctor?" she asked quietly.

He smiled down at her from his chair. "A story?"

"Yeah." she nodded.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in suspicion, but Clara just smiled back up at him.

The Doctor thought to himself for a few moments, for he had so many stories just rattling on in his mind, some completed, some not, but all _important. _And that's all that really mattered. "Okay then... that's what I'll do, I'll tell you a story." he smiled at Clara.

"There's a man, you know, that lives on a cloud in the sky, and all he does, all day every day, is to stop all the children in the world ever having bad dreams."

Clara giggled in amusement of the fantasy.

"And then, there was a girl. So brilliant, so intelligent, so curious as to this man's whereabouts. So she followed him, this man, up the ladder, to his cloud, and they traveled together. Everywhere you could imagine and more." he painted the prime mental portrait. "Stars, planets, supernovas, from a reasonable distance of course, events in history, the moments of the unexplainable future." he spoke to her.

"...but then one day, she fell off of that cloud, to the terrible ground below them, to her death it may seem. But he knew that she was going to live, in a way, in one _impossible _way, she was going to be okay...and even though she did die, even though he didn't know it...they were to meet again.

...and that's really the whole story, Clara Oswald.

It's the oldest story in the universe. This one or any other. Boy and girl fall in love, get separated by events-war, politics, accidents in time...she's thrown out of the hex or he's... thrown into it. Since then they've been yearning for each other across time and space, across dimensions. This isn't a ghost story...it's a love story."

Clara dazed at him, blinking a few times at how one could be so salient, the story seemingly so familiar, yet when told from the perspective of The Doctor, this insane alien boy, it seemed so divergent. _It's a love story. _Clara repeated in her head, the words the ones to put her to sleep. She suddenly felt so sleepy, but The Doctor was indeed good at telling her stories, ones that kept her wondering. Clara didn't want to fall asleep, she wanted to talk with The Doctor for as long as she could, but even though she was heading home, she would find a way. She always did. She smiled at The Doctor one last time before her eyes fluttered shut, quietly falling asleep from the bedtime story told well enough, to the very best.

It told Clara that not everything ended. Not love.

The Doctor stared at her in silence for a moment, quietly watching her. He stood up from his chair and silently laid down beside her, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. He delicately brushed the loose strands of hair out of her eyes as he kissed her forehead.

"_Goodnight Clara_." he whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: The Time Machine

Clara opened the door of the bathroom and toddled out, a bit confused to see two plates hidden under stainless steel covers sitting patiently on the desk table. The Doctor sat quietly in his lounge chair reading a novel, seemingly enjoying just staying inside for the morning.

"Not going out to eat then?" Clara smiled.

"Got to admit, was a bit lazy, and I figured we could just stay in here." he looked up from his page to stare at her, a bit surprised. "...you wear glasses?" he asked her.

"Oh, these things?" Clara adjusted them to her comfort. "I would usually wear contacts, but sometimes it's just more comfortable to wear these." she nonchalantly walked over to his bed, carelessly laying down. They were the archetypal Ray-Ban geek spectacles that she hated wearing in front of people, due to her lack of self-esteem."Sorry, I'll take them off."

"No, you should keep them on." The Doctor said as he closed his book to sit down next to her.

"Why? I look like a dork."

"You're a beautiful dork." The Doctor said as he leaned down and kissed her, a soft and sweet kiss, and as he pulled away, Clara gave him a small smile.

"Soufflé?" The Doctor asked her, indicating to the tray on the desk.

Clara gave a small look of puzzlement, then after a while becoming aware of what he was trying to say. She smirked at him. "You know me too well."

* * *

Staying in a hotel room eating soufflés and jammy dodgers couldn't have been much more pleasant.

Clara cupped her small hands around her tea cup, taking a sip and then placing it carefully on the tray that sat on the bed along with the two. She carefully off a piece of the lightly baked cake and popped it in her mouth, smiling at the pleasantry of its taste.

"Doctor..." she stared to say, pausing to chew on her food a bit longer. "What you said a while ago...about time travel...do you really think that it could be possible?"

The Doctor stared at her for a moment, thinking of his response to such a question. "Yes, I do like to think that someday, somehow, we'll all be able to travel in time in a more extreme way."

"...a _more _extreme way?" Clara asked. "Are you saying time travel is possible? Right now, today?"

"Well Clara, that's the thing, we all time travel, actually, in the tiniest bit of ways." he responded, taking a sip of his tea.

"...but how?" Clara asked.

"Like I said, in the _tiniest _bit of ways, ways that are so small that you often miss them. Such as looking up at the stars, who knows, it could take billions of light years for it's light to reach us, so we're _really _looking into it's past, what it looked like all those billions of light years ago, we're looking into its past, and _waiting, _ever so patiently, for the light that has yet to reach us." he said in amazement of it all, his green eyes glimmering with the wonderment that made Clara love him so much. "Isn't it just brilliant, Clara Oswald?"

Clara smiled at him. "Yeah, it kind of is." She chewed in silence and in wonder, thinking of things she never thought was possible. "Why are you so interested in all this, Doctor?" she asked him in curiosity.

"Because Clara, the world is so small. The world is only a miniscule of the universe that we live in, and there's so much more that can be known. Isn't that just beautiful? All of that knowledge, wanting to be discovered? That's what knowledge is for, after all. People just say go to school, graduate, get a job, have a family and that's it. There's _so _much more that can be done, so much more."

She stared at him in amazement. This clever boy. So interesting. So beautiful.

It was his turn to ask.

"What about you, Clara Oswald?"

"Oh, I don't think my response would be as interesting as yours." she smiled shyly in slight amusement.

"But it's still important." he replied.

Clara tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I don't know... all I wanted to do really since I was little was to see the world, and that's it. I first thought it was impossible...but nothing really is, in their own special way." she smiled at the ceiling. "_Reach for the stars_... that's what my mum always taught me, and I just..." she trailed off. "I really wished I could've spent more time with her, you know? Before she died...I...I just didn't know she'd leave that fast."

The Doctor looked down at his lap. When they first met she'd talked vaguely about her mother's death. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Clara gave her most hopeful smile to him. "Like she always said, the soufflé isn't the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe." she laughed a bit. "It meant that...a person isn't its body...a person is its personality, the feelings that they showed, the emotions that they would go through, the thoughts in their mind would all make up a person. And to me, that's all I need to keep telling myself that my mum is still with me."

The Doctor smiled at her, _his _Clara, the Clara that was so beautiful and kind, with her mannerism of sass and charisma. He loved everything about her.

"Anyways, every time traveler needs his own machine." Clara noted out, changing the subject, her tea cup at hand.

"Ah, yes, I've been thinking about that." he admitted. "If I had a time machine, it would be a police telephone box."

Clara laughed. "Why?"

"Because, just think of it! Traveling, in a police telephone box, across all time and space, what else could you possibly think of?"

"You'd time travel in a box?"

"It'd be bigger on the inside." he noted.

"Bigger on the inside...? How?"

"Exactly, it's like that Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas, nobody knows how."

Clara laughed. "So you'd travel in a police telephone box that's bigger on the inside?"

"Yep." he nodded.

"Where would you go first?"

He smiled brightly at her. He'd thought she'd never ask. "If I had a time machine that was in the form of a police telephone box that so happened to be bigger on the inside, I'd like to show you the stars, Clara Oswald."

* * *

**A/N: **Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas, went there for a short time once in my lifetime, didn't understand how it seemed way bigger on the inside. xD Maybe that's just me.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **...a bit of revisiting here in this chapter. I'm rather scared while I'm writing this. Clara's going to experience an enemy. Ahh.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Her Ghost

_Her mechanical pencil violently wrote numbers along the margin of her test paper, trying to solve the equation in the most efficient way possible. This exam was crucial, and Clara was planning to take it seriously. Not like she didn't take any of her other exams seriously, she was just worried because she had a few minor difficulties with the unit's concept, and usually that was enough to worry Clara. Sally assured her that she would get a flawless grade as always, but that did little to convince her. _

_"Clara," Mrs. Castro lightly tapped on her shoulder._

_Clara finished multiplying and then turned around to face her teacher. "Yes?" she replied quietly._

_"I'm sorry to interrupt, but the headteacher is wondering if she could speak to you." she spoke, barely above a whisper._

_Clara stared at her in confusion. "But...why?" _

_"Don't worry, you're not in any trouble, but she would just like to speak with you." Mrs. Castro said calmly, a hint of sadness and worry in her eyes. Clara had little idea of what her concern was with her._

_"...okay." Clara finally responded, scooting out of her chair that made many students turn their heads. It was one of the things that Clara hated about people, how they would turn their heads and simply looked at her whenever she'd make the slightest bit of sound. It annoyed her generously, sometimes she wished she could just snap their heads into place._

_As she closed door to the classroom behind her, Clara stared out into the hallway. It was so quiet when classes were in session, and she hardly ever seen it this peaceful. She liked it. _

_As she quietly walked down the hallway to her office, she started to wonder. She hadn't done anything to cause any trouble, so why would the headteacher need to see her? Clara wasn't so sure. She had no reason to worry, it was probably just a minor concern. _

_She eventually came face to face with the wooden door, the gold lettering stating: MRS. ABBOTT - HEADTEACHER. Clara lightly rapped on the wooden door as Mrs. Emerson, the school secretary, opened it up for her. She would usually have a warm and welcoming smile to whoever saw her, but this time her face was a portrait of pure seriousness. "Hello Clara." she spoke in a concerned tone of voice, Clara staring at her in confusion. "Mrs. Abbott would just like to talk with you." she said as she walked her into her office.  
_

_The headteacher seemed quite young at an age of thirty-five, in comparison to the former headteachers at the least. She was considered as a mother figure to the school, and that's how she would always will be. She was one to reprimand students for their lack of sanitation and proper behavior, and everyone just simply accepted her that way. Nobody hated her, because there was just simply nothing to hate. "Good afternoon, Clara." she addressed her, her voice lacking it's expected sophistication when talking to her students, which slightly surprised Clara. "Please, take a seat." she was referring to one of the two leather seats patiently standing before her desk._

_Clara hesitantly smoothed out her pleated skirt as she sat down, mentally thanking the headteacher for replacing those hideous plastic chairs that were here before. It just had seemed a bit out of place. "What did you call me in here for?" Clara asked at once, suddenly having a feeling of anxiety in the depth of her stomach. "I didn't...I didn't do anything wrong did I?"  
_

_"Oh, no Clara." she reassured her. "You're a brilliant student, a wonderful model student for the younger ones." she gave small smile towards then, then it disappearing all at once. _

_"Oh...okay then." Clara said hesitantly. "Then...why am I here?"_

_Mrs. Abbott looked at her in a serious manner, for how could she tell her in a way that didn't seem so 'all at once'? Once she got that call a mere twenty minutes ago, she became aware that it was her job to tell Clara what had happened, and it certainly wasn't easy."Clara..." she started, immediately trailing off, for what she was about to tell her was the words that would probably change her permanently. "...it's about your mother..."  
_

_"Yeah...?" Clara asked, simply not understanding. _

_"...she's..." Mrs. Abbott desperately didn't want to tell her, but she had to. She was the one to break the new to her, out of all people, her. "...I'm afraid that we've received the unfortunate news that your mother passed away this morning." she said quietly, not wanting Clara to hear what she had just said, knowing that whatever she did, she couldn't take it back, she couldn't make it seem any worse that it already was. _

_Clara fell silent, her mind not perceiving the words. They simply wouldn't let her believe that. It was as if her world had stopped, and Clara was shocked. "What...?" she spoke out, her voice now a hopeless whisper. _

_"I'm so sorry, Clara..." Mrs. Abbott said sadly. Clara didn't deserve to have their mother taken away from her, nobody did. But it was the truth, the horrifying truth.  
_

_"No, no, that's not possible, this morning, I saw her, all she had was a minor fever!" Clara spat out, her mind starting to panic and feel awfully lightheaded. _

_"Clara, it was more than that, it was more than just a fever, and I'm so so sorry." she persisted, shaking her head in sadness._

_"...no." Clara said, standing up in slight anger. "You... I don't believe you... she's not dead, she can't be!" she was starting to yell now, tears slowly falling down her face._

_"Clara, I know you wish that she wasn't, but she is. We wish that we could do something-"_

_"NO!" Clara snapped at her, furious, tired, and simply miserable. "I'm not going to believe that...!" she choked on her sobs, her heart starting to race, yet so dejected that it seemed as though it would've stopped working._

_"Clara, if you just want to talk about it-" Mrs. Abbott persisted, but Clara was already far gone. She ran out of the office, salty tears running down her face from anger and misery. She couldn't have the headteacher talking about her mother like that. She wouldn't let them. She wouldn't let them convince her that her mother was dead._

_Even though she was. It's just that Clara was too stubborn to admit the truth._

_Clara violently swung open the door to the girl's lavatory and slammed it behind her, her weak fingers locking herself inside so that nobody would see her die. Tears ran down her face in misery. _My mother is dead. _She thought to herself, a though that nobody should ever think of. Clara just seemed so alone, as if life had no use anymore. Nobody understood her as much as she did, and now she was gone, off to deal with herself. It just wasn't fair. Clara pulled at the roots of her hair, wishing that she could just fall apart. It seemed as though she had nobody anymore, a weak leaf, flying in the air, lost, forced under the winter snow to decay. She screamed into the air that enveloped her, the screams of her torment echoing off the tiled walls._

_Her hand slammed into the wall beside her for support, for it seemed as though she didn't know how to stand anymore. She fell to the ground at an instant, her cheek touching the cold floor. It did hurt, but Clara didn't care. They had nothing to take away from her anyway.  
_

_"Clara..." Mrs. Abbott's voice was filled with worry behind the heavy wooden door. "Please come out."_

_No. Clara couldn't do it._

_"Please Clara..." another voice pleaded. It was Sally._

_Clara stared up at the ceiling, so weak and fragile. She didn't have the vitality to stand anymore. She would stay on the cold hard floor as long as she needed to, thinking, that out of all the people in this world, why it had to be her._

_And that's exactly what she did._

* * *

Clara woke up at an instant, her mind panicking from her dreams. It was the first in a long time she'd ever dreamed about the fifth of March, the day her mother passed away, yet there it was again, there to haunt her. Her mind was rushing with memories all seemingly to devious, and Clara hated thinking about them.

She looked at the clock on the bedside table; 2:38 in the morning, Tuesday. She sighed at the fact that she disliked waking up when it was completely unnecessary, but then again she wasn't so sure.

Clara thought she wouldn't ever dream about her mother's death again.

Apparently she was mistaken.

She looked across the room to the bed in which he lay, The Doctor. She'd never told anyone about her mother's death in such a way before, and it was new to Clara. She didn't regret telling him, it just that she felt a bit uneasy about somebody knowing.

A cold tear ran down her cheek, and Clara immediately wiped it off with her blanket. _Why am I crying? _She asked herself. _I'm not supposed to be crying. _She assured herself, for she had been convinced long ago that it was all in the past and that she would move on, so why now must she collapse?

A sharp memory quickly pierced her in the mind, causing her to slowly diminish her away even more so.

* * *

_"Clara...please...I just want to talk to you!" Sally pleaded behind her bedroom door.  
_

_Clara hadn't been at school for nearly a week now, and she was planning to keep it that way. She had been locked up inside her bedroom for most of the time, crying and mourning in her mother's death. _

_"Go away!" she snapped at her, and though a part of her told her not to yell at her best friend, another part of her overcame that.  
_

_"Please..." Sally persisted._

_"I said LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed, her head in her pillow, regretting the words she said, yet meaning them all the same. She didn't want anyone near her, she didn't want any help, she didn't need anyone to console her lifeless heart, she just wanted to be along.  
_

_Clara felt like a ghost. Long dead._

* * *

Tears stained the white sheets as Clara wrapped herself in them, she had been so weak. She hated feeling that way. and the dreams only coaxed her to fall into it again. _No. _She kept telling herself. _Don't fall for it. _She kept repeating it to herself, but she already felt it crawling up her spine. Depression was the antagonist in the battle against herself, a battle she thought was well over, a battle in which the enemy was dead. _Your mother is dead. _It reminded her, the tears falling freely. _Go on now, cry, die into me again. _It said, and Clara wrapped her arms around herself, afraid, so scared. Tears ran down her face. _Are you really going to go through it again? _Something in her head told her, the protagonist of the fight. _Don't listen. Your mother left you. _The other fought back, and Clara was falling.

Her bloodshot eyes looked across the room to The Doctor, the boy she wanted to love, but the antagonist was pulling her away from him all of a sudden. _Go to him. _The protagonist urged her. She could lay down beside him, and he would tell her that everything was okay, he could fix all of it, but the demon inside of her hissed.

_He won't help you, why would he? _It cackled at her. _Don't go to him, it's worthless. You're all alone, Clara. _It told her.

Clara wanted to go to him. She wanted to tell him.

_You're all alone Clara. No one wants to help you._

Clara cried softly into the darkness, for the depression had gotten to her again. She lost her mother, the one person who she could really trust, and she was starting to believe the antagonist. She lay down weakly on her pillow. She couldn't go to him. She wouldn't. _That's it Clara, go to sleep. _It coaxed her. _You have nobody. _It laughed.

_I have nobody. _She repeated to herself. She really believed that.

_Nobody understands. Nobody will fix your broken heart._

_Nobody. _Clara repeated. _Nobody. _Her eyes slowly closed. She wouldn't go to him. She couldn't. She would be left to die again.

_Go on Clara, go to sleep. Wake up to a new day._

* * *

**A/N: ***Guards face with arms.* I'm purely terrified now.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Slowly Falling

Clara's fingers grasped the cold water bottle from the refrigerator, her other hand digging into the pocket of her flannel pants she had worn to bed, trying to find the money she had stuffed in there that morning. She was in the lobby's tiny convenient store, and she simply needed some water. She just couldn't think straight. _What happened last night...? _She thought to herself. She woke up that morning, purely terrified and scarred. The Doctor had even asked her if anything was wrong, and she wanted to tell him so badly, but something overcame that. She denied that anything was bothering her, and before he could say anything else, she left to room to head downstairs. He didn't seem too convinced, but Clara simply didn't care. She was forced to deny it.

She paid for the water and lazily strolled over to the elevator, pressing the button with her index finger. In all honesty, she didn't want to go back to their hotel room, she didn't want to face him, she didn't want to see herself lie to him, denying that nothing was wrong, even though she knew something was dying inside of her. But she had to, and the antagonist wanted to see her lie.

Clara violently opened the water bottle with a quick flick of her wrist and held it up to her mouth. She was tired and just so confused, and even though the water wasn't really helping either, she drank most of it on the first take.

Suddenly, she felt a small vibration from her pocket, then after a while becoming aware that it was her mobile. Clara really didn't feel like making conversation with anyone at the moment, but just decided to see who was calling her. She reached into her pocket and took it out, staring at the caller ID, not knowing what to do. It was Sally. Clara grimaced a bit, thinking about all the times she'd ignored her best friend in the past, and what she encountered last night really gave her a clear picture. With reluctance, she answered her call, holding the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Clara said.

"Clara, hi!" Sally's voice seemed so energetic, and it surprised Clara due to her lack of energy herself.

"Hi Sally." she responded, walking into the vacated elevator as the doors swiftly opened.

"I just wanted to see how you've been, you know, we really haven't talked in a while."

"Oh, yeah. I've been okay, I guess." Clara said, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

Sally wasn't buying it.

"Okay? You guess?" she scoffed. "Clara, you're traveling the world here, you've got to tell me more than that."

"Oh, yeah, actually Sally..." Clara trailed off, for she didn't even know yet. "I'm actually coming home on Thursday."

"What?!" Sally exclaimed, causing Clara to expand the distance between her ear and the phone. "Why?"

"Oh, just a bit of a mix up in flights I suppose, guess it just wasn't possible..."

"But, how?! Where are you now?" Sally asked.

"I'm...um..." Clara wasn't sure if she wanted to explain it or not. "I'm in New York, you see, I was supposed to go head home after my trip to Rome, but The Doctor invited me to come with him on this trip to New York City for one last trip, and I'm heading home soon..."

"...The Doctor?" Sally asked in puzzlement.

"...you don't...?" Clara asked in confusion as well, then becoming aware of the fact that Sally didn't know. "Oh, yeah, sorry...John..." Clara trailed off, the name so peculiar to be told.

"Oh, well, okay then." Sally said in obvious suspicion. "So are you two...?"

"Kind of. Well, not exactly, but...maybe...I don't know." Clara admitted, walking out of the elevator when her floor was reached.

Sally laughed. "Okay then. I'll be excited to see you at the least, but I'm sorry that your trip got messed up."

"It's alright." Clara assured her. "That's not the least of my problems." she so happened to mutter.

"What?"

"Sorry, nothing." she shook her head in regret. "Listen, Sally, I've kind of got to go, I'll talk to you later." she said as she approached her hotel room.

"Um, okay." Sally said suspiciously, for Clara wasn't sounding like herself.

"Bye."

"...bye."

* * *

That night, Clara stared up at the ceiling above her, her face a portrait of no emotion. The day was okay, The Doctor and her had taken a walk around the city, eaten at a few places, yet it seemed as though all was uncomfortable between the two. As if something lacked between the two of them. And Clara knew what it was. She wanted to do something about it, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell him that she was depressed, that would've just screwed up everything.

Clara kept trying to convince herself that he could help her, that he could make her feel better again, that he would just make everything back to the way it should.

But she couldn't.

The voice inside of her head kept talking to her, making sure that she wouldn't think otherwise. _Don't tell him you're depressed, Clara, how immature of yourself for thinking that. What would he think of you then? He wouldn't be helpful, he'll just run away from you, just like your mother did._

"...are you sure that nothing's bothering you?"

The voice almost made Clara jump in surprise.

She turned her head to stare at those green eyes, those beautiful, kind, green eyes that she just wanted to admit the truth to, but all she did was shake her head. "No, I'm sure." she assured him. He stared at her in suspicion as he stood over her bed.

"Okay then." he finally said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

Clara flinched a bit, feeling a bit uneasy. _He won't help you Clara._

"What is it?" The Doctor asked, simply confused.

"Nothing." she replied quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." she slapped on a fake smile, feeling utterly horrible on the inside for lying to him.

_She's not telling me something. _The Doctor thought to himself as he unmade the bed. _She never acted like this before. _He wasn't too fond of her behavior either. _What is she hiding? _He stared up at the ceiling along with her, utterly confused.

* * *

_She stared at her mother's lifeless form, seemingly so perfect, so still, flawless as she lay in the casket. Clara didn't like it, she hated it._

_Tears were stained on her face, her eyes red from crying, her muscles weak and sore from her lack of moving from her mattress in the past two weeks or so._

_People from all over the place, her family, her friends, even people she simply didn't know from business came to simply hug her. Even though she knew that it was supposed to console her, Clara didn't feel any better. It was as if nothing else mattered, nobody understood, even the people closest to her. It seemed as if nothing could possibly tear Clara away from her mother, except her own death. Out of all of the things that could be tried, death. _

_Clara's aunt stared at her watch on her left wrist, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning and Clara was still unwilling to leave. Sure, her aunt had missed Ellie dearly as well, but the girl needed some rest, it was as if she didn't even sleep anymore. Dave had told her about it, and he was desperately worried for his daughter, he was afraid that he would lose her too in the end._

_"Clara," her aunt coaxed, walking up towards her in front of the room in the funeral home. "It's rather late, we should get going."_

_"No." was all she managed to reply, simply unwilling to move from her spot._

_"Clara, please, you're not sleeping well. Your father's starting to worry."_

_"I don't care."_

_"Please, Clara, we should-"_

_"No!" Clara snapped at her aunt. "You can't tell me to leave my mother when she's left me!"_

_"Clara, that's not what I meant-"_

_"I don't care what you meant!"_

_Her aunt looked offended, then noticing how broken Clara really was. Losing her mother was taking everything from her. "Clara, I'm so sorry..."_

_Clara felt hollow, emptied out. Life had no use for her anymore. "Sorry doesn't make her come back."_

* * *

"_No_!" Clara screamed into the night, jerking upright in her bed. _It was just a dream. _She tried to relax herself, but it was simply impossible. She panted and panicked, the memories coming back to stab her. It was half past midnight, and the dreams were just going to continue, slowly killing the girl who dreamt them.

"...Clara?" The Doctor asked groggily, slowly waking up from her screaming. "What's the matter? You were screaming..."

"Doctor, it's nothing." she assured him, shaking her head. It probably wasn't all that convincing.

"Clara, you screamed. That can't be right." he said, turning on the lamp that stood on the bedside table.

"No, I'm sure...it's just...it's nothing." she denied it.

"Clara,"

"No."

"You're not alright."

"I'm _fine! _Can you just leave me alone?!" she snapped at him, making him fall silent. It even surprised Clara. She would never snap at him, yet she still did. She didn't mean it. She wished that she could tell him that.

His head fell onto his pillow, sighing in frustration. A tear fell down Clara's cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with her blanket before he could notice.

"Fine, if you don't want me to help you." he said, his voice serious, and it make Clara's heart tear open slightly. She hated this feeling, she hated not being able to tell him, she wanted to so badly, so why couldn't she just take over her tongue and just admit to him? _What took over me so easily?_

_Depression, Clara. That's what's taken over you. If you tell him, it'll just change everything._

Clara quietly crept under the covers, tears slowly falling down her face. _Everything's already starting to.  
_

She couldn't let anyone see her like this, especially him.

"Clara, I know you probably don't even want to talk to me right now..." he finally said after a long silence. "...but, if you just look up from under the covers, there's something I just want to show you..."

Clara lay down in silence, unsure of what to do. She wanted to stay under to covers, hiding this hideous side of her, wanting to keep to herself. Yet she still found the courage to slowly remove the sheets over her head, and as she opened her eyes, she gasped. It was as if all of the stars were somehow on the ceiling of the room, so dimensional, simply beautiful. She looked over to the bedside table, a small handheld contraption silently sitting a top of it, a radiant light escaping from it's glass lens and dispersed onto the white ceiling,

"It's a laser star light projector." The Doctor explained. "I got it at F.A.O. Schwarz on Saturday, wanted to show you before you left tomorrow." he said quietly, almost as if the words seemed said with hesitance. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Clara didn't respond, she just kept staring up at the stars, it was probably the closest she would ever get to them. It was simply beautiful. It did make her feel a bit better, even though her mind wouldn't let her admit it aloud. She just kept staring, seemingly lost in the universe. _We're all just a spec in this infinity of a galaxy, which is its own spec compared to its universe. _She then thought to herself, her mind racing with hundreds of thoughts. She then was going through an existential crisis.

Yet the stars were still so beautiful.

"You probably want to get some sleep," The Doctor said quietly, reaching over to the bedside table.

Clara interrupted him.

"...can you keep it on?" she asked weakly.

The Doctor stared at her for a moment, then slowly nodding his head in response. "Yeah, sure." he finally said, then settling down on his pillow. He simply, tossed and turned for a while until he was in a comfortable position, then slowly falling asleep, leaving Clara to ponder by herself.

Yet after a while, Clara was starting to feel sleepy as well, her eyes starting to close ever so slightly. Then there she was, lying so peacefully, so weak, falling asleep, lost in the stars.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **After this chapter, I feel as though you're all going to come after me with torches and pitchforks...

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Broken Glass

She had been ignoring him that morning; it was the simplest thing she could do to prevent herself from yelling at him. She hated the feeling, not being able to talk to the one person she wanted to the most, but she had to control herself. The dreams were only getting worse, screaming inside her head, reminding her of what she really was. _You can't love him. _The voices in her head wouldn't stop. _Depressed little Clara, who would want to love someone like you? _It told her, and she was really starting to believe in what those voices told her.

Clara, the girl who surrendered to her own depression.

The Doctor couldn't take it anymore. She had been deliberately hiding something from him, and it killed him to see her so despondent and not being able to do anything. She wouldn't even answer his questions anymore, she would just give him an emotionless look, as if it wasn't worth trying. She seemed as if she was a ghost, simply dead.

If only she could tell him.

She finished packing her belongings without conversation with him, wondering what will happen when she got back to her little flat, all alone again. _I'll forget it all, I'll forget this ever happened. _She reminded to herself, and that was what she was going to do. Forget The Doctor, forget she had ever met him, go on with her life, for everything, all of it, was a mistake.

_This is how we end. _

The Doctor hated the thought of it. She was going to leave him without an answer, she was going to leave him wondering all his life, hidden from him, a mystery that would never be solved. He hated it. Even though nothing was said between them, they could feel themselves slowly drifting away, to the point in which they could barely see one another. He was purely agitated because of everything, and Clara was still unwilling to give in.

He stared at her from across the room, for a girl that had seemed so different, suddenly looked so dead, alone, hollowed out, as if there was nothing left. Clara was leaving him.

She put on her grey fedora and wrapped her soft white scarf around her neck, all in silence, without a word. She was leaving, and both of them knew that there wasn't anything left. She rolled out both of her suitcases into the hallway and turned back into the room to get her coat.

He had to ask. One last time.

He had to know.

She was leaving him.

The Doctor walked up to her slowly and stared at her, her brown eyes the barricade, blocking him out. Her eyes were a portrait of rebellion, yet looking so weak and fragile. "Clara...can you just tell me what's bothering you?"

She glared at him in slight agitation, for she was tired of him asking. She huffed as she adjusted her coat, wanting to leave and get out of this place, out of the city, away from his relentless inquiry. "Nothing's wrong, I don't have anything to tell you." she snapped at him.

"Clara stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" she snapped back.

"Just tell me what's wrong." he persisted.

"It's nothing! I'm fine."

"No you aren't, Clara. You're not like this."

Clara stared at his green eyes, as he did to her, irate and simply austere. It was as if she didn't see him the same way. "Then maybe you just don't know me too well." she scowled coldly.

He looked at her, hiding the fact that he was slightly in shock. "Clara-"

"Stop saying my name like that!" she hissed.

"Something is bothering you, why won't you tell me?"

"Because there is _nothing _for me to tell you, alright?! Can't you just shut up for once and deal with that?!"

"Clara, something's not right, you have to tell me."

"No!"

"I want to help you Clara, just tell me!"

"_No!_" she was yelling at him by now. "Nothing's wrong, can't you see?! You can't just go and tell me what to do like I'm some sort of child! _This _is _me_, and you can't do anything about it! If you're expecting yourself to try and help me, you can't! You can't fix me Doctor!"

"...well then maybe it was a mistake of me to bring you here in the first place." he snapped, Clara falling silent at an instant.

The words were like a knife in her throat, painful and unforgiving. It made her feel as if she was nothing to him in the first place, just being dragged along for the sake of her problems. _See Clara? _The voices cackled. _He doesn't love you. He never did._ As if he wanted to leave her when it all started. It was as if he had never cared, as if he had just brought her here to simply shut her up from the complains of her misery and desperation.

Clara was really starting to believe that.

Her anger covered up the fact that she just wanted to cry, furiously blinking back tears. She scowled at the boy Clara thought she knew all too well, but really, she didn't know him at all. He didn't care about her. He never did.

Clara turned away from him, and without another word, walked out the door, like a leaf, torn up, abused, and let go, blowing in the wind, helpless and shattered.

It's heart broken.

As if it even had one in the first place.

* * *

Clara hated herself.

A miniscule of tears ran down her face as the lights of the city illuminated her desolate face. She didn't mean to yell at him, she didn't mean to change anything in any way, yet it still happened. She rode the taxi on her way to the airport in silence, for the city wasn't too hectic at four in the morning. _This wasn't meant to happen. _She thought, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her coat. _...he told me all of this was a mistake. _She wanted to scream, but that would be inappropriate and the taxi driver would've probably given her strange looks.

_...that's the last time I'll ever see him again._

She started to pant, angry and miserable. _I just screwed everything up. _She thought to herself, hiding her face with her hands, trying her best not to cry. She could've overcame it, she could've stopped her stupid depression, but her tongue had already lost it's voice to sing.

_Goodbye was the least I could've said._

* * *

"Three...hours..." Clara breathed.

_Three hours._

Three hours she'd have to wait until her plane would arrive in New York. She stared up at the flight display monitor, the word _DELAYED _in bright florescent lettering, it was almost as if it was mocking her.

Clara sighed and sat down at a nearby seat, lazily dragging her annoying baggage along with her. She didn't know what to do for the next one hundred eighty minutes of her life, for the airport wasn't exactly the most entertaining location to wait for three hours of your life.

She took her phone out, seeing if she could pass the time on the airport's free internet connection. She wasn't really one to go online constantly, so it was a fairly new thing for her.

Time didn't last too long for Clara's internet activity before she closed her server in boredom. She couldn't seem to understand how people could just find something to do so easily, or maybe she just didn't have enough time for social media, Clara had the slightest idea. She ended up just scrolling through her contact list and reading the names, for she couldn't find anything better to do.

But then, her eyes caught onto something, a name, and she stared at it blankly with reluctance before she found herself clicking on it.

_The Doctor._

Clara stared at the name for a while, for she wasn't sure what to do. Her thumb hovered over the bright screen, the word _CALL _staring back at her, as if it were waiting impatiently for a decision to be made. After a while, Clara simply shook her head and turned off her phone, violently stuffing it back into her coat pocket. _You'll eventually forget about him Clara. _

She wasn't exactly sure if she was lying to herself or not.

* * *

Clara sat on the leather seat of the aircraft, feeling awful and just plain tired. Her eyes were red and it had blatantly looked as if she had been crying, and she hated when people gave her peculiar stares. She was heading back home, away from him, where her life would somehow begin again. It was like a book, pages written, with beautiful, _flawless _imperfection, yet suddenly torn out as if it were never there, forced to begin anew. It left scars that could never be hidden, as a remembrance that it would always be there.

She simply glared at everyone around her, for she suddenly seemed so envious of them and their untroubled lives. _Out of everyone here...why did it have to be me? _She asked herself.

_Seven more hours of waiting. _Clara scowled.

* * *

The front door of her flat slammed shut, the suitcases carelessly thrown inside next to the sofa, Clara really didn't feel like unpacking. She slid down the wood of her door and rested her head in her knees, simply exhausted and confused. She had held in tears for far too long, and she felt as if she was going to mentally implode from all the stress that suffocated her mind. It was nearly midnight due to the delay in her flight, and Clara had seemed so angry with herself and the world that she just didn't care about herself anymore. _Well then maybe it was a mistake of me to bring you here in the first place. _It rang inside of her ear, and she hated hearing the sound of his voice, yet she loved it all the same. _Did he really mean it...? _She asked herself, biting her lip.

_Of course he did, silly Clara. _The voice inside of her head hissed at her. _Do you think he ever loved you? _She could hear it laughing at her in malevolence. _It was all just a lie Clara, one pointless, little lie. Why would anyone love somebody like you? _

A tear fell onto Clara's black cardigan, soaking into the fabric and touching her skin, making Clara feel rather uneasy. _No... _She thought to herself, shaking her head slightly. _...that...that can't be true..._

_Oh, but it is, little Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara. Depressed little Clara, so embarrassing. Nobody loves you. No one ever did, no one ever will._

She breathed in and out slowly, starting to lose her breath. Her head ached with pain, and her stomach groaned furiously at the state she was in, for it was then when she became fully aware that she hadn't eaten at_ all _that day. Her headache slowly grew from the hypoglycemia and the unforgiving condition of stress she was in, and she was beginning to become weak, the tears flowing freely down her face.

_You're becoming weaker, Clara. _It sang to her. _Ah, yes. That's how you should be. Broken. Depressed. Nobody loves you. _It kept repeating. _Nobody will care if you die, they'll all just laugh at how pathetic you really were. _

Clara screamed into the night with all the vitality her mind could hold, her weak and such tiny hands pulling furiously at the roots of her hair. She couldn't take it anymore. All of the torment of depression eating her away like a rotten corpse, she couldn't bear to breathe anymore. She stood up and violently swung open her door into the cold night, not even bothering to put on a coat, it didn't even matter anymore. _You can't hurt me any longer...you have nothing to take away from me anymore. _Her mind cried in weakness, pleading for an end to this ruthless mental torture.

She ran down the stairs of the complex carelessly, the pain from her headache roaring inside of her head, almost as if it was pounding on her skull. Her legs became weak, unable to run anymore. _How could I let something so stupid get into my head again?! _Her mind screamed at herself, for there was nothing she could do left. Tears fell down onto the cold metal below her feet, for she could fall to who knows what extent. She just had one more flight of stairs to get to the ground when it happened.

Her legs collapsed in exasperation and hatred of the physique it was made for, her head pounded in pain and agony, her heart seemed to be pounding faster than it ever should have been. Clara suddenly grasped onto the metal railing of the stairs in depletion, her mind becoming dizzy and hazy. Her head hurt like hell, and the pain just wouldn't stop. She stared down at the stairs below her, for she knew what was going to happen to her.

She fell.

She fell down to the ground, her mind simply giving up on her, her entire body suddenly stopping all at once. She had lost consciousness, and now it was time for her to live up to the consequences she already knew were going to occur. Her body lay on the foot of the stairs in defeat, certainly not dead, but not alive either.

* * *

**A/N: **...don't kill me.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **I regret ever saying _anything EVER **AGAIN**_ concerning the topic of pitchforks, got that? xD

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Oblivion

The Doctor was restless that night, for he just couldn't seem to think right. He felt lost. He felt horrible for saying that to Clara, such an innocent girl, he shouldn't have bothered her to begin with. He felt so discouraged, as if Clara's behavior had worn off onto him. He sat, alone, in his hotel room Thursday night, in the solitude of his lounge chair. _How could I have let her go so easily...? _The Doctor asked himself in disgust. Clara was the only girl that he had ever really loved, and now she was gone. By then it didn't even matter what the past was, the actions of his own mother didn't affect him anymore, he had _loved _Clara, and now, he wasn't sure if he would even get to see her again.

His eyes scanned the room in silence, for he wasn't as angry, he was just simply drowning in disappointment of himself. _I let her go..._ He found himself crying quietly to himself.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. In the corner of his eye, he almost missed it even, but no, his eyes were fixed on something. It seemed as if it were a corner of a book was peeking out of Clara's pillowcase, it was hidden rather well, but he saw it blatantly staring back at him.

He slowly made his way over to Clara's bed, still unmade from that morning. He stared at the corner of the book without emotion, yet reluctant to see what it was. After some time pondering, he carefully took it out of the white pillowcase, then realising that it was a journal. _She must've forgotten it. _The Doctor thought to himself, staring at the blank leather cover.

Now he wasn't one to invade on one's personal privacy, so he was rather unwilling to open it. But it was the only thing that he had that reminded him that Clara was a part of his life, and how he greatly regretted letting her slip away from him so easily that morning.

So as he carefully placed his reading glasses on and sat down in the lounge chair in the back of the room, he carefully opened the cover.

_Property of Ellie Oswald_

The Doctor smiled at this, this was Clara's mother, her handwriting, her journal. He carefully brushed his thumb over the fading black ink, the impression underneath his fingertips. His eyes glanced to the first page, where he had read:

_Dear Oswin,_

_Today I met a boy._

That boy was him. He stared at the words for a moment, then after a while, continuing on.

_He's so interesting, you know? How he just sort of stands out from the crowd with his unorthodox bow tie and his certainly eccentric chin, I'd call him Chin Boy if I could, not exactly sure how he'd feel about that though. _

The Doctor laughed at her words, her _beautiful _words that she had written, words that had contained such flawless imperfection.

_...I had made a promise to myself a while back. A promise that I had intended to keep. I had promised myself that I would never love anyone because I knew that love would never last...but then I became aware of something._

_People had told be in the past that you learn from your mistakes. Well then, how can I learn if I don't make mistakes in the first place? _

_So sure, I might make a mistake, but it'll all lead to happy endings._

_Or at least that's what I believe._

He smiled. _Clara...my Clara... _He thought to himself, for how much he wanted to hold her close at that moment. He read on, her writing so intriguing, how she would describe everything in such ornate detail that he could somehow remember everything. The first time they met, how he had asked her to come along with him, just everything, in one, small little, yet so _important _book. He admired how she had written everything they had done in New York in that one little week that all went by so fast. They had wished that it could last as long as it would let them, which would've been a fairly long time.

He read the title on the next page, suddenly coming to a respite.

_Saturday_

That was the day he ran like an idiot into a toy store. The day they admired the fact that forks were just simply peculiar. The day that she practically tripped on top of him in the middle of an ice area, and probably humiliated themselves in front of the general public, but neither of them really seemed to care.

_Dear Oswin, _

_You know that feeling when you just want life to somehow freeze at one point of your life...? As if nothing was ever going to change...as if you were to stay there forever, and it would be completely okay? _

_I've never had that feeling before._

_It was as if I just wanted everything to stop. I just wanted him to keep staring at me, and as weird as that sounds, it was true. _

_I don't need to explain everything. Just too perfect for words I guess._

He smiled softly. _Too perfect. _He thought to himself.

There were a few more entries that were just a painting of pure bliss before he started noticing a slight change in her writing. There was even one in particular that just made him feel uneasy, and it surely wasn't the easiest to read.

_Tuesday _

_Dear Oswin,_

_The dreams came back...again._

_As if they were meant for this time, right at this very second, and I have the slightest idea as to why it's occurring now. I wanted to tell him about it so badly, but I was so afraid of what he might think. Wouldn't he be upset over it? He wouldn't care...wouldn't he..._

_I remember clearly, you know._

_My depression is the one thing that I just can't accept about myself, because it's so tormenting to go through it over and over again, and this time, it's too the point in which I don't think I can even control it._

_I just wanted my mum with me._

_Even I couldn't get something as simple as that._

He then sighed into the air that enveloped him, suddenly feeling so sorry for her, and so upset with himself. It did make sense now. The reason as to why she wouldn't tell him, was just that she was afraid of what he might've thought, self-conscious about herself and her depression. He wanted to help her in any way that he could, somehow, even though everything they had seen, everything that was heard had led them up to this, he still loved her.

_His _impossible girl.

* * *

Clara woke up at a start, and by the looks of her surroundings and the rather unpleasant yet familiar smell, she knew where she was. _...a hospital room...? _She questioned to herself, her hand slightly grazing her head where a remainder of the little pain lingered. _...what the hell? __Why am I here...? _She asked to herself, and it was as if her mind simply didn't have an answer.

"Oh my goodness, I'm glad you've woken up," a woman suddenly said as she approached Clara's bed. She didn't know the woman, and she lacked the formal attire of a nurse or a doctor, so the girl had a right to be partially frightened by her sudden speech. She had short brown hair with bangs, her eyes filled with worry.

"Sorry...but...who are you?" Clara asked, for she didn't know.

"Oh, forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. Emma Grayling." she gave a sympathetic smile towards her, leaving Clara utterly confused.

"Okay..." Clara trailing off, for even though she knew her name, she didn't have any answers. "...why am I in a hospital bed...?"

Emma sat down on the bed and stared at her brown eyes kindly. "My...you don't remember?"

"...no sorry."

"I was off to work, going down the stairs, you were lying there, it looked as if you had fallen. You weren't waking up so I called." she said with concern.

"...I fell down a flight of stairs?" Clara said in confusion, for she didn't remember anything.

"Well, from the looks of it, yes." Emma replied.

Clara stared at the woman in front of her in puzzlement. The faint lingering pain remained prominent on her skull, seemingly the only reminder of her fall. Clara tried her hardest to remember the events of the previous night, but it all was seemingly blank, as if erased from her mind.

Emma carefully pulled a mobile phone out of the black sweater she was holding. "This is yours, apparently." she said quietly, handing it to her.

"...thanks." Clara responded, placing it carefully on the bedside table.

"Clara?" The voice of a nurse asked, Clara's attention focused onto her now as she nodded in reply. Emma gave her a small hopeful smile and quietly slipped out of the room, and though she didn't want her to leave, she knew that nurses would probably force her out otherwise.

"Can you explain what happened to me?" Clara asked weakly.

"Well it seems as though you fell down a flight of stairs located in your flat complex, and though you don't have any serious concussions, by the looks of it, it may cause temporary amnesia."

_Of course. _Clara practically glowered at herself. _Stupid klutz, the only way I can get amnesia is to fall down a flight of stairs._

"I'm going to ask you a few simple questions, alright?"

"Alright." Clara responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What is your name?"

"Clara Oswald."

"Age?"

"Twenty-four."

The nurse nodded in approval, scribbling a few notes down on her clipboard, and it seemed to Clara as if she was blatantly trying to hard to look professional. "Do you remember the events of the previous night?" she asked, and Clara fell silent. She didn't know, it just seemed as one blanked out blur. All she could remember was the fact that she had been told that she fell down a flight of stairs, which wasn't all that pleasing. Clara shook her head. "No, sorry, I don't remember."

She nodded yet again and wrote down a few more things, then looking up to meet her eyes. "Alright, you should just be in here for a few more weeks, okay? You're fine, but you might not remember a few things, and they'll take a while to settle back in your memory, alright?" she asked, trying to sound optimistic, but all Clara heard was the confirmation of her practically being locked up inside a hospital room for the rest of the month. "We'll call you for frequent questioning, just to make sure you know the basic stuff." she flashed one more smile before she walked off, leaving a bemused Clara to deal with herself. It sounded as if she had committed a crime and had to be interrogated and under observation, and she hated it.

Emma poked her head through the small opening of the door a few minutes later. "Everything alright?"

Clara nodded reluctantly. "Thank you so much for everything, I know it must be a bit of a hassle, I know it's too much to ask for-"

"You're not asking for anything, I promise." Emma smiled again, and this time, Clara smiled back. "Now you probably need to get your rest, alright? Don't worry about all that."

"Okay. Thank you." Clara smiled warmly as Emma nodded in reassurance, then quietly closing the door behind her. Clara finally had just a few minutes to herself in which she could just think.

_I fell down a flight of stairs. _She reminded herself in utter embarrassment, hiding her face with her tiny and fragile hands. _I have amnesia. _She thought to herself, then groaning in agitation of herself. She couldn't remember what had happened the previous night, or in fact, the past few weeks just seemed a blur in her memory, for she couldn't remember anything.

Suddenly, a nurse walked right in, different from the one before, not like it mattered. "Alright Miss Oswald, we've contacted your father about the whole scenario, unfortunately he won't be able to come and visit due to his business traveling." she said, almost as if she felt some sort of sympathy towards the girl, but Clara knew it was all fake.

"Yeah, I know." Clara muttered, for she wished that her father could at least be there for her at the moment, though she didn't blame him. He had to travel a lot for business purposes, and they hardly even spent a decent amount of time together, which frequently consisted of numerous business calls interrupting their conversation.

"Just try and get some rest, alright?" she smiled at her patient, who nodded with reluctance. She tried to make herself as comfortable as possible in the condition she was in, for it seemed at though she was surrendering her life to the hospital nurses, but she wasn't giving up quite yet. Her hair sprawled out onto the firm white pillow, her eyes trying to get some sleep, before a small voice rang out in her head.

_Goodnight, Clara._

Her eyes immediately opened as she sat up in her hospital bed, for she had heard that voice before. She knew who it belonged to. Yet she just couldn't remember clearly. It almost seemed as if it had been so obvious.

"Everything alright?" the nurse asked, eying her suspiciously.

"Oh, um, yeah...sorry." Clara stuttered, then laying down again to get some sleep.

_I know that voice. _She thought to herself.

_I've heard that voice before._

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I have absolutely _no_ idea what really happens when you wake up in a hospital bed and suddenly find out that you have amnesia, I tried to make it as realistic as possible, from my miniscule lack of knowledge. :P But then again, they call it _fiction _for a reason I suppose.

_(P.S. Please no pitchforks this time, or torches, or any other forms of physical weapons. ;P Teehee thanks.)_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: Alter Egos

Clara's eyes slowly opened to the sight of a nurse standing over her bed. She must have been asleep for a few hours, certainly still half-asleep, and it took a bit of getting used to the fact that she was _in _a hospital bed suffering from temporary amnesia due to her lack of physical grace and equilibrium. Well at least that's what she thought.

Her eyes focused on the particular being in front of her, the face all seemingly too familiar. Clara almost scoffed at herself, for it seemed as though she was imagining things, which was a fair suggestion considering that she had practically banged her head on the concrete pavement just yesterday.

But no, it was real.

And when Clara became aware of that fact, however, she sat up in her bed, absolutely shocked and in surprise.

She knew that face.

She knew her voice.

_"Everything alright?"_

_"Oh, um, yeah...sorry."_

The nurse smiled at her patient, for she knew her just the same. "Hello Oswin."

She kept staring at her for a few moments, taking it all in. It just had been so long ago. It was almost out of the ordinary, and _very _consequential. Clara smiled like a child again, for the girl in front of her, the one who gave her a slim chance. She laughed a bit, surprised at her current state. "...out of all the things you could have been in life, you're in _healthcare_?" Clara asked, a grin sprawled across her face.

Nina smiled. "Surprising, eh?"

* * *

Catching up with her former childhood classmate was a positive addition to Clara's current recovery and mental therapy due to her clumsiness. They just had so many things to catch up on: university, occupations, love interests even.

"Have you fancied anyone Clara?" Nina grinned back at her.

"Ah, no, at least of what I can remember. Probably not."

"Well that can't be right." she protested, raising her eyebrows in suspicion.

"I just don't know...maybe I did forget him." Clara looked up at the ceiling, for the past month of her life had just been a blur in her memory. It was intended to be a playful joke for the purpose of slight amusement, but it meant something much more. "I feel like I'm supposed to remember something, _someone_, but I just can't." Clara squinted at the light. "It sticks out, you know? Like a...big chin."

"Exquisite description, my friend."

* * *

Visiting hours came along, and in all honesty, Clara didn't expect anyone to come. Emma came in first though for a few brief moments, just to make sure that everything was doing well, and Clara assured her that all was doing rather well. Then surprisingly, one familiar strawberry blonde girl walked in, a small smile on her face, yet eyes with slight worry and concern."Hi Clara."

"Hi Sally. How did you know I was here?"

"Your dad called, wanted me to check up on you. Said you fell down the stairs, practically banged your head, and had temporary amnesia, _and _that your level of blood sugar was _ridiculously _low-"

"Don't have to explain everything." Clara flashed her a small smile, opening her arms to let her in to a hug, which Sally took generously. They hugged for a while, then Sally pulling away slightly to stare at her best friend.

"Amnesia...oh Clara, that must feel horrible." Sally said, feeling awfully sorry for her.

"Surprisingly, it's not _that _bad" Clara admitted, shrugging her shoulders a bit. "I just can't remember what happened to me this past month or so, just sort of got blurred out from my mind. It's rather interesting, not knowing a part of your _own _life, it's like meeting a person you just met. I'll just need to get used to it, and hopefully it'll come back to me."

"So you don't remember _anything _about what happened to you these past couple of weeks?" Sally asked hesitantly, biting her bottom lip.

Clara shook her head. "No, I wish I did."

"_Nothing_?" Sally asked again.

"Nothing." Clara repeated, shaking her head. "Although, now that you mention it, I feel like I'm _supposed _to remember someone, I just don't know who." Clara shrugged.

Sally stared at her, her eyes wide and reluctant. "Right then." she said quickly, her eyes apparently now interested at the tiles on the floor. _She doesn't remember anything. _Sally said to herself. _Nothing. Nothing about her trip, nothing __about meeting anyone she so happened to have an interest in, nothing about...him. _

The thing is, Sally didn't know about what happened to him and Clara that morning.

"You alright?" Clara asked, her eyes widening in suspicion.

Sally's train of thought got cut off as she snapped her attention back to her. "Oh, yeah, fine, just, um...thinking about a few things."

Clara stared at her for a few minutes before shrugging. "Okay, if you say so." she finally said, Sally giving her a reassuring smile of her gratitude.

"You know, people would just expect me to just be a complete wreck after falling down a flight of stairs and having to deal with this, but...I'm alright. It's not the _best_ thing I could be doing, but at least I have you here with me, and I actually just sort of reunited with one of my friends from when I was little, Nina." Clara smiled. "I mean, I'm fine with it."

Sally sighed quietly, making sure that Clara didn't hear her. _If only you could remember him. _She smiled at her then, hiding her hesitance. "That's rather positive coming from what you've dealt with, it's surprising." Sally teased lightly, Clara smiling back.

"I know, it's almost as if I've let go of something, something that I wanted to release, but I just wanted to hold on to forever. It's weird."

"Yeah..." Sally trailed off, feeling rather reluctant because of the fact that she knew a decent portion of what she had known before she had fallen.

_People would just expect me to be just a complete wreck after falling down a flight of stairs and having to deal with this._

It's actually the opposite.

Clara would have been a complete wreck if she _hadn't_.


End file.
